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THE 



SACRED MOUNTAINS. 



BY 



J T'S HE AD LEY, 

1\— * — — 

AUTHOR OF NAPOLEON AND HIS MARSHALS, ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED 



NEW YORK: 
AKER AND SCRIBNER, 

36 PARK ROW AND 145 NASSAU STREET. 

1847. 



"&S« 



o 



• H-V 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, 

By BAKER & SCRIBNER, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States 

for the Southern District of New York. 



STEREOTYPED BY THOMAS B. SMITH , 
210 WILLIAM STREET NEW YORK. 

E, U. Jenkins, Printer. 






M 



TO 

MY AGED BELOVED FATHER, 

WHO HAS LONG STOOD ON THE HEIGHTS OF ZION 

A MESSENGER OF PEACE 

AND HERALD OF GOOD TIDINGS TO MEN, 

AND WHOSE FEET I KNOW 

WILL SOON STAND ON THE " MOUNT OF GOD," 

THESE SKETCHES 

ARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 



PREFACE. 



The design of the following sketches is to ren- 
der more familiar and life-like some of the scenes 
of the Bible. This, I know, is a difficult task, not 
only from the disposition of men to look at things 
sacred less naturally than on the common events 
of life, but from the inability of the writer to find 
words that shall bring the scenes he would de- 
scribe, home to the feelings, without shocking his 
own and the reader's sensibilities by too familiar 
phrases. Yet, unless they cease to become distant 
visions to us, we shall never appreciate the displays 
which God has made of himself to man. The 
Bible is a book of general principles and outline 
sketches. To elevate and extend to their full ap- 
plication the former, has been the work of the reli- 
gious teacher from the time of Christ till now— - 
while the filling up of the latter, has been neglected 
as impossible or useless. But God has not given 
us those few bold outlines of the most thrilling 



VI PREFACE. 

scenes in human history, to have them never com- 
pleted. In my descriptions, I have endeavored to 
shun all those things which might be termed mere 
creations of the fancy, and have confined myself, 
either to the Bible itself, or to those incidents, which 
must have occurred, taking human nature to be the 
same in all ages of the world. 

There is oue mountain in the list, about which 
there has been much dispute among writers — I 
mean Mount Tabor. Every mountain has been 
more or less the subject of discussion, because its 
precise locality depends entirely upon tradition. 
The present Ararat may, or may not, be the Ararat 
on which the ark rested ; yet, tradition says it is, 
and we believe tradition. Neither Sinai or Horeb 
is so precisely located by the Bible as to furnish no 
grounds for dispute ; and Moriah and Zion have 
been shifted from spot to spot, to meet the views of 
travellers. Mount Tabor especially has excited 
their incredulity, and it is declared impossible that 
it should be the mount of transfiguration. And 
yet, at the bottom of all the learning and research 
expended on this subject, I can find but two reasons 
against the common belief. One is, that tradition 
alone declares it to be the mount of transfigura- 
tion. But this objection is groundless, or we must 



PREFACE. Vll 

give up also the localities of the other mountains, 
mentioned in the Bible. Ararat itself must cease 
to be a witness for the deluge. The other reason 
is, that Mount Tabor was a fortress, and hence 
could not be chosen by Christ for such an exhibition 
of himself to the disciples. In the first place, 
granting the fact, I do not see the force of the 
argument. Why a mountain, several miles in 
circumference at the top, could not furnish a re- 
moved situation for such a scene, it is difficult 
to say. If the proximity of men were an objection, 
one would think that Christ would not have chosen 
Gethsemane as the place of his agony. But there 
is no evidence that Tabor, at that time, was occu- 
pied as a fortress. Almost from time immemorial, 
the great plain of Esdraelon had been the meeting- 
spot of armies, and Tabor furnished a stronghold 
for whichever party could occupy it. But in times 
of peace it was often neglected ; and that it was in 
this ruinous state at the period of Christ's transfig- 
uration, is evident from the repairs that were made, 
and the walls that were built at the commencement 
of the after-wars between Rome and Jerusalem. 
At least, there is no other mountain in all this re- 
gion answering so perfectly to the description — " an 

exceeding high mountain apart." 
1* 



Vlll PREFACE. 

The plates are accurate drawings of these moun- 
tains, as they now appear, with the exception, that 
from some of them, mosques have been removed, 
so as to give them their original form. 

As Christ is the beginning and end of all these 
wonderful displays of divine power, the Star of 
Bethlehem has been chosen as first in the list of 
engravings. 



CONTENTS. 



MOUNT ARARAT. 

Page 
The Mountains of the Bible. — Description of the Flood. — After 
the Deluge 13 

MOUNT MORIAH. 
Journey of Abraham. — The Scene on the Mountain 29 

MOUNT SINAI. 

Terrific Scenery amid which the Law was given. — Slaughter of 
Three Thousand of the Children of Israel 41 

MOUNT HOR. 

Character of Aaron. — Mournful scene on its top at the Death of 
Aaron in the presence of his Son and Moses 55 

MOUNT PISGAH. 

Character of Moses. — His touching Farewell to the People. — His 
lonely ascent to the Mountain. — The Prospect spread out be- 
fore him. — His Death 67 

MOUNT HOREB. 

Elijah's Flight and Despondency.— God's fearful exhibition of 
himself in the Whirlwind, Earthquake, and Storm of Fire. — 
The still small Voice 79 



X CONTENTS. 

MOUNT CARMEL. 

Page 
Elijah's boldness. — Gathering of the People to Mount Carmel. 

Trial between Elijah and the Prophets of Baal. — Elijah's 

Prayer and the answer by Fire. — His Prayer for Rain and the 

sudden Storm 91 

MOUNT LEBANON. 
Its Appearance and Beauty. — Its Cedars. — Its use by the Pro- 
phets and Poets of Israel to illustrate the Beauty and Glory 
of the Church 109 

MOUNT ZION. 

The touching Associations connected with the Name. — It stands 
for Jerusalem — for the Church. — The Love of the Israelites 
for Mount Zion. — The Captives in Babylon. — Last Sacking 
and Overthrow of the City 118 

MOUNT TABOR. 
The strange Contrasts this Earth presents. — Battle of Mount 
Tabor fought by Kleber. — View from the Top. — Transfigura 
tion of Christ 132 

MOUNT OF OLIVES. 
Agony of Christ. — His Seizure and the rough treatment of Him 
by the Soldiers 145 

MOUNT CALVARY. 
The Crucifixion Scene. — Moral Grandeur of the Atonement 156 

THE MOUNT OF GOD. 
Glorious Vision of John in the Isle of Patmos. — The one hun- 
dred and forty-four thousand Harpers 168 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



ENGRAVED BY BURT. 



Subjects. 


Painters. 


Page. 


Mount Ararat, 


Calcot, 


Frontispiece. 


Vignette — Bethlehem, 




Title. 




Mount Moriah, 


Turner, 


29 


Mount Sinai, 
Mount Hor, 




41 
55 


Harding, 


Mount Pisgah, 


Turner, 


67 


Mount Carmel, 


Bartlett, 


91 


Mount Lebanon, 


Harding, 


109 


Mount Zion, 


Balmar, 


118 


Mount Tabor, 


Harding 


132 


Mount of Olives, 


« 


145 



X 




There are some mountains standing on 
this sphere of ours that seem almost con- 
scious beings, and if they would but speak, 
and tell what they have seen and felt, the 
traveller who pauses at their base would 
tremble with awe and alarm. 

For some good reason, the Deity has usu- 
ally chosen mountain summits, and those 
which are isolated, as the theatre on which 
to make the grandest exhibitions of himself. 
It may be because those grand and striking 
features in nature fix the locality of events 
so that they never can fade from the memory 
of man. The giving of the law needs no 



14 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

lofty column of stone to commemorate it. 
Mount Sinai lifts its awful form towards the 
clouds, a perpetual unwasting monument. 
God's exhibition of himself to the awe-struck 
prophet, as he passed by him heralded by 
the storm, the earthquake and the flame, 
needs no pyramid to consecrate the spot. 
Mount Horeb tells where the Almighty dim- 
med his glory and covered the human face with 
his fearful hand, so that his brightness might 
not destroy the being who would gaze on him. 
The transfiguration of the God-man requires 
no pillar of brass to arrest the eye and aid the 
senses as man contemplates the place where 
the wondrous scene transpired ; Mount Tabor 
is its everlasting memorial. Thus do moun- 
tain summits stand the silent yet most elo- 
quent historians of heaven and earth. 

Another reason why mountains have been 
chosen by the Deity for his most solemn rev- 
elations, may be that their solitude and far 
removal from human interruption and the 
sounds of busy life, render them better fitted 



MOUNT ARARAT. 15 

for such communications than the plain and 
the city. 

The first in the list of Sacred Mountains 
is Mount Ararat. The first named summit 
in human history, it emerges from the flood 
and lifts its head over the water to look down 
on all coming generations to the end of time. 
Whether it was changed in that mighty con- 
vulsion which drowned the world, or wheth- 
er its lofty peak which saw the swelling wa- 
ters and marked their steady rise remained 
the same, we know not. At all events, the 
mountain looked down on the swaying world 
at its feet, as cities floated from their founda- 
tions and came dashing against its sides, and 
beheld a wilder scene than ever covered a 
battle-field, as it heard and saw six genera- 
tions shriek and sink together. But what- 
ever may have been its former history, it now 
stands as the only memorial of the flood. Ri- 
sing like a sugar-loaf from a chaos of peaks, 
w T hich gleam and glitter in the sun-beams 
that are reflected from their snowy sides — 



15 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

overlooking a sea on one side and a desert on 
the other, it is a grand and striking object in 
itself, but made still more so by the associa- 
tions that cluster around its sacred top. It 
has seldom been profaned by human feet, but 
there was a time when the sea rolled over it, 
and mightier waves than ever yet swept the 
sea thundered high above its crown. 

Though the immediate appearance of a 
flood that should submerge the world was 
an event that staggered human belief, yet 
Noah, obedient to the voice of Heaven, be- 
gan his ark of safety. There is no one who 
does not lament that there is not a fuller an- 
tediluvian history. We merely catch the 
summits of events, and are told of some half 
a dozen things that happened, while all the 
rest is wrapped in impenetrable mystery. 
We are told that the world was drowned, 
but the particulars of that terrific scene are 
left entirely to the imagination. It is only 
by the declaration of our Lrod, that men 
were busy at their usual occupations, " eat- 



MOUNT ARARAT. 17 

ing and drinking, and marrying and giving in 
marriage, till the flood came and swept them 
all away," that we get any data by which 
we can form any true conception of the ca- 
tastrophe. Yet this short statement is worth 
every thing, and with it before me, I have 
sometimes thought I could almost paint the 
scene. Noah, whose head was whitened by 
the frosts of six centuries, laid the foundation 
of his huge vessel on a pleasant day, when 
all was serene and tranquil. The fields were 
smiling in verdure before his eyes ; the per- 
fumed breezes floated by, and the music of 
birds and sounds of busy life were about him, 
when he, by faith alone, laid the first beam 
of that structure, which was to sail over a 
buried planet. When men, on enquiring the 
design of that huge edifice, were told its pur- 
pose, they could hardly credit their senses, 
and Noah, though accounted by all a very 
upright and respectable man, became a jest 
for children. As the farmer returned at even- 
ing from the fields, and the gay citizen of 
2* 



18 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

the town drove past, they christened it 
" Noah's folly." Those more aged and sober 
shook their heads wisely, saying, " The old 
man is mad." Even the workmen engaged 
upon it laughed as they drove the nails and 
hewed the plank, yet declared they cared 
not as long as the foolish old man was able 
to pay. Still the ark went up, and the day's 
wonder ceased to be talked about. When it 
was finished, and curiosity satisfied, it was 
dismissed from the mind as a passing folly. 

Yet I have sometimes wondered what peo- 
ple thought when they saw the beasts of the 
field and the forest, and fowls of the air, even 
the venomous serpent and the strong-limbed 
lion coming in pairs to that ark. This must 
have staggered them amazingly, and made the 
ark for a while a fresh topic of conversation. 

At length, the patriarch with his family 
entered — the door was shut in the face of 
the world, and he sat down on the strength 
of a single promise to await the issue. That 
night the sun went down over the green hills 



MOUNTARARAT. 19 

beautiful as ever, and the stars came out in 
the blue sky, and nature breathed long and 
peacefully. In the morning the sun rose in 
undimmed splendor and mounted the heav- 
ens. Deep within the vast building Noah 
could hear the muffled sound of life without. 
The lowing of herds came on his ear, and 
the song of the husbandman going to his toil, 
and the rapid roll of carriage wheels as they 
hurried past, and perhaps the ribald shout 
and laugh of those who expended their wit 
on him and his ark together. To say noth- 
ing of the improbability of a universal deluge, 
the idea was preposterous that such a helm- 
less, helpless affair could outride* a wrecked 
world. Thus day after day passed on until 
a week had gone by, but still the faith of 
that old man never shook. At length the 
sky became overcast, and the gentle rain de- 
scended — to Noah the beginning of the flood, 
to the world a welcome shower. The far- 
mer, as he housed his cattle, rejoiced in the 
refreshing moisture, while the city never 



20 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

checked its gaiety, or the man of wealth his 
plans. But as the rain continued day after 
day, and fell faster and fiercer on the drench- 
ed earth, and the swollen streams went surg- 
ing by, men cursed the storm that seemed 
determined never to break up. The low- 
lands were deluged ; the streams broke over 
their banks, bearing houses and cattle away 
on their maddened bosoms. Wealth was 
destroyed and lives lost, till men talked of 
ruined fortunes, famine and general desola- 
tion; but still it rained on. Week after 
week it came pouring from the clouds, till it 
was like one falling sheet of water, and the 
inhabitants could no longer stir from their 
doors. The rich valleys that lay along the 
rivers were flooded, and the peasants sought 
the eminences around for safety. Yet still 
the water rose around them, till all through 
the valleys nothing but little black islands 
of human beings were seen on the surface. 
Oh, then what fierce struggles there were for 
life among them. The mother lifted her in- 



MOUNT ARARAT. 21 

fant above her head, while she strove to 
maintain her uncertain footing in the sweep- 
ing waters ; the strong crowded off the weak 
as each sought the highest point ; while the 
living mass slowly crumbled away till the 
last disappeared and the swift water swept 
smooth and noiselessly above them all. Men 
were heard talking of the number of lives 
Lost and the amount of wealth destroyed, de- 
claring that such a flood had not happened 
in the remembrance of the oldest man. No 
one yet dreamed of the high grounds being 
covered, least of all the mountains. To 
drown the world it must rain till the ocean 
itself was filled above its level for miles, and 
so men feared it not, and sought for amuse- 
ment within doors till the storm should 
abate. Oh, what scenes of vice and shame 
and brutality and revelry did that storm wit- 
ness in the thronged city, and what unhal- 
lowed songs mingled in the pauses of the 
blast that swept by. 

But at length another sound was heard 



22 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

that sent paleness to every cheek, and chain- 
ed every tongue in mute terror. It was a 
far distant roar, faint but fearful, yet sound- 
ing more distinct and ominous every mo- 
ment, till it filled * all the air. The earth 
trembled and groaned under it as if an earth- 
quake was on its march, and ever and anon 
came a crash as if the " ribs of nature" were 
breaking. Nearer and louder and more ter- 
rible it grew, till men forgetting alike their 
pleasure and their anger, rushed out in the 
storm, whispering, u The flood ! the flood" — 
and lo, a new sea, the like of which no man 
had ever seen before, came rolling over the 
crouching earth. Stretching from horizon 
to horizon, as far as the eye could reach, — 
losing itself like a limitless wall in the clouds 
above, it came pouring its green and massive 
waters onward, while the continual and 
rapid crash of falling forests and crushed 
cities and uptorn mountains, that fell one af- 
ter another under its awful footsteps, and the 
successive shrieks that pierced the heavens. 



MOUNT ARARAT. 23 

rising even above the deafening roar of the 
on-rushing ocean, as city after city and king- 
dom after kingdom disappeared, made a 
scene of terror and horror inconceivable, in- 
describable. " The fountains of the great 
deep were broken wpP 

But the last cry of human agony was at 
length hushed — ocean met ocean in its flow/ 
and the waves swept on without a shore. 
Oh, what a wreck was there ! the wreck of 
two thousand years, with their cities, culti- 
vated fields and mighty population. Not 
shivered masts and broken timbers, the re- 
mains of some gallant vessel, were seen on 
that turbulent surface, but the fragments of 
a crushed and broken world. It was a no- 
ble wreck— splendid cities and towers, gor- 
geous palaces, gay apparel, the accumulated 
wealth and luxury of twenty centuries strew- 
ing the bosom of the deluge, like autumn 
leaves the surface of some forest stream. 

But amid the sudden midnight that had 
wraoped the earth, and the frenzy of the 



24 SACRED MOUNTAINS. v 

elements and utter overthrow and chaos of 
all things, there was one heart that beat as 
calmly as in sleep : one brow over which no 
breath of passion or of fear passed: one 
spirit whose serene trust never shook: for 
in the solitary ark that lifted to the heaving 
billows, the aged patriarch knelt in prayer. 
Amid the surging of that fierce ocean his 
voice may not have been heard by mortal 
ear, but the light of faith shone round his 
aged form, and the moving lip spoke a re- 
pose as tranquil as childhood's on the bosom 
of maternal love. The patriarch's God ruled 
that wild scene and Noah felt his frail vessel 
quiver in every timber, without one tremor 
himself. Upborne on the flood, the heaven- 
protected ark rose over the buried cities and 
mountains, and floated away on a shoreless 
deep. Like a single drop of dew this round 
sphere of ours hung and trembled — a globe 
of water in mid-heaven. I have often won- 
dered what the conversations were during 
the long days and nights that lonely ark was 



MOUNT ARARAT. 25 

riding on the deep. As it rose and fell on 
the long-protracted swell, massive ruins 
would go thundering by, whole forests sink 
and rise with the billows, while ever and 
anon an up torn hill, as borne along by the 
resistless tide it struck a buried mountain, 
would loom for a moment like some black 
monster over the waves, then plunge again 
to the fathomless bottom. Amid this wreck 
and these sights, the ark sailed on in safety. 
How often in imagination have I pictured it 
in the deluge at midnight. To a spectator 
what an object of interest it would have 
been. Round the wide earth the light from 
its solitary window was the only indication 
of life that remained. One moment it would 
be seen far up on the crest of the billow, a 
mere speck of flame amid the limitless dark- 
ness that environed it, and then disappear 
in the gulfs below as if extinguished forever. 
Thus that gentle light would sink and rise 
on the breast of the deluge, the last, the only 
hope of the human race. Helmless, and ap- 



26 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

parently guideless, its wreck seemed inevita- 
ble, but the sea never rolled that could ex- 
tinguish the star-like beam that told where 
the ark still floated. Not even the strong 
wind that the Almighty sent over the water 
to dry it up, driving it into billows that 
stormed the heavens, could sink it. Though 
it shook like a reed in their strong grasp, and 
floundered through the deep gulfs, it passed 
unerringly on to the summit of that moun- 
tain on which it was to rest ; and at length 
struck ground and ceased its turbulent mo- 
tion. 

Noah waited a week, and then sent forth 
a raven to explore the deep. Though the 
waters still swept from mountain to moun- 
tain, the myriad carcasses that floated on 
the surface furnished both food and resting 
place, and he returned no more. He then 
sent forth a dove. It darted away from the 
place of its long confinement, and sped on 
rapid wing over the flood, now turning this 
way and now that, looking in vain with its 



MOUNT ARARAT. 27 

gentle eye for the green earth, and at last 
turned back towards the ark of rest. The 
tap of its snowy wing was heard on the 
window, and the patriarch reached forth his 
hand and took it in. The fierce pantings of 
its mottled breast, and its drooping pinions, 
told too well that the earth gave no place of 
repose. But the second time it was sent 
abroad it returned with an olive leaf in its 
mouth, showing that the earth had risen 
from its burial and was sprouting again in 
verdure. Then the patriarch went forth 
with his family and stood on Mount Ararat, 
and lo, the earth was at his feet, but how 
changed. Cut into gorges which showed 
where the strong currents swept, and piled 
into ridges, it bore in every part marks of 
the power that had ravaged it. Noah and 
his family were alone in the world, and he 
built an altar there on the top of the solitary 
mountain, and lifted his voice in prayer, and 
the Almighty talked with him as " friend 
talketh with friend/' bidding him go forth 



28 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

and occupy the earth. And as the flame of 
the sacrifice rose from the mountain top 
bearing the patriarch's prayer heavenward, 
the promise was given that the earth should 
never again be swept by a deluge, and lo, 
God's signet ring appeared in the clouds, 
arching the man of God, and shown as a 
warrant that the covenant should never be 
broken. 

Baptized by the flood — consecrated by the 
altar — illumined by the first fresh rainbow, 
Mount Ararat stood a sacred mountain on 
the earth. 







Mount Moriah stands just without Jeru- 
salem and is now crowned with the mosque 
of St. Omar, whose entrance has long been 
forbidden to the Christian, and kept sacred 
for the followers of Mahomet. It stands 
where the rude altar of Abraham rose nearly 
four thousand years ago. The proud city 
has risen and fallen beside it, the genera- 
tions of men come and gone, and whole 
dynasties of kings disappeared one after 
another, yet there it stands as it stood in 
the wilderness when it was trodden only 
by the wild beast of the forest. 

The sacrifice of Abraham which conse- 
crated Mount Moriah is to me one of the 



30 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

most touching events in human history. I 
can never read over the unostentatious, brief 
account given in the Bible without the pro- 
foundest emotions. Knowing that parental 
feeling and human nature are the same in 
all ages, my imagination immediately fills up 
the sketch in all its thrilling details. The 
shock of the announcement by God — the 
farewell with Sarah — the three days 7 lonely 
journey — the unconscious playfulness of 
Isaac on the way, and the stern struggle of 
the father's heart to master its emotions, all 
rise before me, and I seem to hold my breath 
in suspense till the voice of the angel breaks 
the painful spell and the uplifted knife is 
stayed. 

Abraham had long wished and prayed for 
a son who should inherit his property — bear 
up his name and transmit it to posterity, 
until it had become the absorbing thought 
of his life. Isaac was the child of his old 
age — his only son — the single link on which 
every thing rested, and in him were gar- 



MOUNT MORIAH. 31 

nered all the love and hopes of his noble 
heart. ( But if he was an object of such in- 
tense affection and priceless worth to Abra- 
ham, what must he have been to Sarah ? 
Oh, who can tell with what absorbing love, 
what inexpressible fondness, the mother 
bowed over his cradle and watched his 
growing strength. Isaac ! — that name was 
to her the embodiment of every thing beau- 
tiful and lovely, and his clear laugh never 
rung out on the morning air without sending 
a thrill through her bosom almost painful 
from its intense delight. His voice without 
the tent would arrest her in the midst of any 
occupation, and there was no world where 
her boy was not. But this beautiful scion 
was to be cut off — this bright young being 
slain, and the father's hand was to do the 
deed. So came the command from heaven ; 
and the bolt that then and there crushed 
through Abraham's heart none but God saw 
enter. a Take now thy son, thy only son 



32 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

Isaac whom thou lovest,* and get thee into 
the land of Moriah and offer him there 
for a burnt-offering on one of the moun- 
tains I shall tell thee of." The lightning 
had fallen and the aged tree was struck 
though not shattered. The patriarch's fear 
had come upon him, and he turned to his 
tent that night with a cloud on his soul the 
light of faith could scarcely pierce. The 
voice of his son which had heretofore made 
his heart leap for joy, now sent a pang 
through it as if it were the last cry of suffer- 
ing rather than the call of affection. No 
sleep visited his eyes that night, yet he kept 
the fearful tidings to himself and summoned 
all his energies to meet the terrible trial that 
awaited him. What ! tell the mother that 
her boy was to be slain and the father to do 
the deed — that the lamb of her bosom and 

* I know that some commentators make Isaac at this time 
a young man, instead of a child. Whether it is so or not, or 
whether even the age of twenty-five in that period of longevity 
was not as young as thirteen now, I shall not discuss. It is 
enough for me that the Bibl<§ c&Hs him 4 > the lad." 



MOUNT MORIAH, 33 

the only joy of her heart was to be gashed 
and marred by the cruel knife and his body 
burned on a far desolate mountain ! that he 
was to come back no more — his voice to 
cheer her loneliness no more, but his ashes 
to be scattered over the bleak hill-side by 
the winds of heaven! Oh no! the burden 
was heavy enough already, without taking 
upon himself the mother's grief. Beside, that 
boy could never leave the tent in the morn- 
ing unconscious of his approaching fate, if 
the mother's farewell was to be a last one. 
That fatal leave-taking would be a double 
sacrifice and before the time. 

The morning broke clear and beautiful — 
the asses were saddled and all was ready 
for departure ; yet still Isaac lingered in the 
tent, covered with the fond caresses of his 
mother. To part with him a week seemed 
like losing him an age. But at length she 
led him forth to the door of the tent, and im- 
printing a last kiss on his bright young fore- 
head, bade him go. As Abraham saw him 



34 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

approach with half a smile and half a tear 
on his face, he thought of his own return 
without him, and the mute despair and 
crushing agony that would meet him when 
he should stand speechless and desolate 
before his wife. Who could answer her in- 
quiries ? who still her piercing cries for Isaac 
her only son? All these thoughts rushed 
over the patriarch's heart bearing him to the 
earth, yet his firm soul never betrayed his 
emotions, and he turned away to meet the 
struggle before him without faltering or de- 
lay. His tent disappeared in the distance, 
and the last object visible on the plain was 
the form of Sarah watching them from afar. 
For three weary days did Abraham journey 
on, pressed with a single thought, crushed 
by one over-mastering sorrow, and yet with- 
out a heart to sympathize with him. Isaac, 
on whose pure spirit young hopes lay like 
morning dew-drops— to whom life was fresh, 
joyous and radiant, and the earth belted 
with rainbows — talked ceaselessly of the 



MOUNT MORIAH, 35 

new objects and scenes that passed before 
them. But his delights, his innocent enjoy- 
ment, brought only a deeper shade on Abra- 
ham's brow, and, if he smiled to please his 
child, it was a smile more painful to behold 
than his look of sadness. Each answer to 
his inquiries seemed a heartless deception, 
and the weary hours a mere prolongation of 
the mockery of his young affections and de- 
sires and joys. And when that son pillowed 
his head on his bosom at night, and Abra- 
ham too desolate to sleep, listened to his calm 
breathings, methinks his purpose to slay 
him almost faltered ; and, when the morning 
broke over the landscape, and he watch- 
ed him still in beauty by his side, the task 
required of him seemed too great for human 
strength. But the darker the hour grew, 
and the more fixed the irrevocable decree, 
the heavier he leaned on the Omnipotent 
arm. 

After three days' toilsome travel, the 
mountain at length rose before them, and 



36 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

Abraham bidding his servants wait his re- 
turn, took his son and began to ascend its 
rugged sides. Like the great antitype who 
bore his own cross up Calvary, Isaac carried 
the wood for the burnt-offering on his 
shoulders, while Abraham took the fire and 
knife in his hand. " So they went both of 
them together." It requires no vivid imagi- 
nation to fill up this scene, so slightly 
sketched in the Bible. Human nature is 
the same the world over, and as the hour 
of stern trial approached, Abraham became 
silent and sad. The fire and knife in his 
hand, caused him to shudder, for they made 
what had before been a vision, a passing 
fact, and he started as the blade glittered in 
the sunlight, as if he already saw it quivering 
in his son's bosom. But Isaac, unconscious 
of the fate before him, continued to talk with 
all the gaiety and carelessness of boyhood, 
until, at length, sobered by his father's stern 
aspect, and the toil of the way together, he 
too grew silent. As his buoyant spirits sub- 



MOUNT MORIAH. 37 

sided, his thoughts naturally turned upon 
the solemn event that seemed so to absorb 
and subdue his father. Suddenly it flashed 
over him that there was no lamb for the of- 
fering, and, thinking it must have been for- 
gotten, he turned to his father with an 
awakened, enquiring look, and exclaimed, 
" Father, father !" " What, my son," was 
the half absent reply. a Behold the wood 
and the fire, but where is the lamb for the 
offering? 77 Oh, who can tell the pang that 
question shot through the father's heart. 
The tone, the look all showed the very soul 
of confidence and love, and Abraham stag- 
gered under the sudden gush of feeling as if 
smitten by a blow. But pressing down by 
a strong effort the emotions that suffocated 
him, he replied in a faint and tremulous 
voice : " My son, God will provide himself a 
lamb for a burnt-offering" This satisfied 
him, and he lapsed again into silence, though 
his youthful heart began to tremble before a 
vague undefined fear of some coming evil. 



38 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

The mountain * breeze as it swept by, had a 
mournful sound — not a living thing disturbed 
the solitude, and " so they went both of 
them together/' But when Isaac saw his 
father begin to bind him, as he had often 
seen him bind the lamb for sacrifice, and the 
terrible truth at length flashed on his mind 
that he was to be slain, who can tell the 
consternation of his young heart ! Oh, who 
can tell the pleading looks and still more 
pleading language, and tears with which he 
prayed his father to spare him! And who 
can tell the anguish of that paternal heart as 
it met each sob and agonizing cry with the 
stern language, " My son, God has chosen 
thee as the lamb for the burnt-offering." 
Methinks, as fear gradually yielded to filial 
obedience, and to the command of heaven, 
and the moving words, u my mother, my 
mother" died away in indistinct murmurs, 
that Isaac did not close his eyes against 
the fatal blow, but opened them instinc- 
tively on his father, his only help in that 



MOUNT MORIAH. 39 

fearful hour, and still watched the glitter- 
ing blade as it quivered like a serpent's 
tongue above his bosom, for it was his father 
who was about to strike. But oh, who 
nerved the parent's heart in that terrible 
moment 1 As his hand put back the clus- 
tering ringlets from that fair young forehead, 
and his glance pierced the depth of those 
eyes fixed so lovingly yet despairingly on 
him, who gave steadiness to his arm, and 
strength to his will, as he bent to the fatal 
stroke ? He who cried, " Abraham, Abra- 
ham! spare thy son; Lay not thy hand 
upon the lad, neither do thou any thing unto 
him, for now I know that thou fearest God, 
seeing that thou hast not withheld thy son, 
thine only son from me." Faith was trium- 
phant — the gold had been tried and found 
pure, the father tasked to the uttermost and 
stood, and lo, Isaac bounded from the altar, 
in all the joy of recovered freedom, and fell 
on his father's neck in passionate tears. 
Oh, did ever father and son bend in such 



40 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

overwhelming gratitude before an altar as 
they, or did the smoke of sacrifice ever go 
up over two more devoted hearts than then 
and there went up from the top of Moriah. 
Faith sublime, unequalled holy faith, conse- 
crated that mountain forever. 

Years afterward the temple of Solomon 
threw the sunbeams upon it, and the chil- 
dren of Israel paid their vows there, but it 
has no memorial like that of the offering up 
of Isaac. 









v,t\ 



\ -:m¥^'' 





Standing in the midst of some of the most 
desolate scenery in the world, Mount Sinai 
lifts its huge form into the heavens, like some 
monster slumbering in conscious strength. 
Its bald and naked summit — its barren and 
rocky sides, and all its sombre features, cor- 
respond perfectly to the surrounding scene. 
It is a wild and desolate spot, and were 
there even no associations connected with it, 
the loneliness and gloom that surround it 
would arrest the traveller, and cause him to 
shudder as he pitched his tent under its 
shadow. But Mount Sinai has associations 
that render it chief among the Sacred Moun- 
tains. The moral, the divine instructions 
4# 



42 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

given to man from its summit, are of course 
the things of chief importance, but as these 
are always wholly dwelt upon, I speak only 
of the outward scenes amid which they were 
imparted. Nor is this without its use; for 
we, half the time, lose the freshness, I might 
say the naturalness, of much that is said in 
the Bible, by involving it in a sort of super- 
natural indefiniteness. We remove the per- 
sons and the objects, and in doing it lose the 
power which familiar scenes always have 
over the mind. There can be a no more 
striking illustration of this truth than in the 
different effects produced on a congregation 
by the different manner in which some de- 
scriptive scene in the Bible is read. One 
will read in a strained, monotonous voice, as 
if naturalness betokened too great familiarity 
with sacred things, and is astonished that 
men care so little for the reading of the 
Scriptures. Another, as if he himself were 
narrating the facts for the first time, and 
every eye and ear is fixed. If the crucifixion 



MOUNT SINAI, 43 

could be made definite as a common murder 
scene, and the agony in the garden as fa- 
miliar as the throes and torture of a friend 
in the extremest agony of human nature, 
they would not, they could not, be read with 
so little feeling as they are. Said a lawyer 
to me once, u You Christians lose half the 
beauty of the Bible by putting your minds 
into such a strained, solemn attitude the mo- 
ment you open it. I take it up as I would a 
law book, and new truths, new beauty, and 
new sublimity appear on every page." Oui 
senses are the inlets to our minds. The 
Deity acts on this principle when he accom- 
panies all developments of himself with such 
remarkable outward appearances. Even the 
Son of God must die amid the throbs of an 
earthquake, the rending of graves and the 
blotting out of the sun. The giving of the 
law, too, was done amid scenes that were 
designed never to be forgotten. 

Behold the white tents of Israel scattered 
like snow flakes at the base of that treeless, 



44 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

barren mountain. The hum of a mighty 
population is there, and those flowing tents 
on which the parting sun is leaving his fare- 
well glories are the only pleasing objects 
that meet the eye in this dreary region. A 
solemn hush is on every thing as the moon 
sails up the heavens, flooding with her gen- 
tle light the tented host. Moses has de- 
clared that on the third morning the eternal 
God is to place his feet orj that distant 
mountain top in presence of all the people. 
Awe-struck and expectant, the sons of Jacob 
go from tent to tent to speak of this strange 
event, and then coFie out and look on the 
mysterious mountain on which it is to tran- 
spire. Unconscious of its high destiny, the 
distant summit leans against the solemn sky, 
and nothing there betokens preparation for 
the stupendous scene. 

But at length the morning comes and that 
vast encampment is filled with the murmur 
of the moving multitude, all turned anxiously 
to distant Sinai. And lo! a solitary cloud 



MOUNT SINAI. 45 

comes drifting along the morning sky and 
catches against the top of the mountain. So 
have I seen a cloud caught by an Alpine 
summit and held firmly there. But the most 
vivid impression I ever got of this scene was 
from Mount Vesuvius. The mysterious 
cloud it wraps around its own head, conceal- 
ing the brightness and terror within, always 
reminded me of the cloud on Sinai. And 
then the tenacity with which it would cling 
there. When the midnight heavens were 
black with tempests, and the sea was one 
wild waste of waves, and the clouds were 
dashing like maddened spirits over the sky 
before the blast — with every flash of light- 
ning that illumined the gloom, I have caught 
the distant top of Vesuvius with that cloud 
around its head, moveless as a rock amid 
the furious blast, while thunder and flame 
and motion were within. So did the cloud 
rest on Sinai as the people looked, and sud- 
denly the thunder began to speak from its 
depths, and the fierce lightning traversed its 



46 SACRKD MOUNTAINS, 

bosom, gleaming and flashing through every 
part of it. That cloud was God's pavilion ; 
the thunder was its sentinels, and the light- 
ning the lances' points as they moved round 
the sacred trust. The commotion which 
from the first arrested every eye and chained 
every tongue, grew wilder every moment till 
the successive claps of thunder were like the 
explosion of ten thousand cannon shaking 
the earth. Amid this incessant firing of 
heaven's artillery, suddenly from out the 
bosom of that cloud came a single trumpet 
blast. Not like the thrilling music of a thou- 
sand trumpets that herald the shock of cav- 
alry ; but one solitary clarion note with no 
sinking cadence and rising swell, but an infi- 
nite sound rising in its ascension power, till 
the universe was filled with the strain. The 
incessant thunders that rock the heights can- 
not drown it, for clearer, fuller, louder, it 
peals on over the astonished spectators, till 
their hearts sink away in fear, and nature 
herself stands awe-struck and trembling be- 



MOUNT SINAI, 47 

fore it. And lo ! columns of smoke begin to 
rise fast and furious, from that mysterious 
cloud, as if a volcano had opened in its 
bosom, and the pent-up elements were dis- 
charging themselves in the upper air; and 
the steady mountain rocks to and fro on its 
base, as if in the grasp of an earthquake. 
"And the smoke thereof ascended as the 
smoke of a great furnace, and the whole 
mount quaked greatly.'' 

Amid this rapid roll of thunder, and flashing 
of lightning, and fiercely ascending volumes 
of smoke, and convulsive throbs of Sinai, 
and while that trumpet strain still " waxed 
louder and louder," Moses led the trembling 
Israelites forth to the foot of the mountain. 
Suddenly the uproar ceased, and the thun- 
ders hushed their voice, and the last echo of 
the trumpet died away, and all was still. 
And from that silent cloud came a voice 
more fearful than they all — the voice of Je- 
hovah calling Moses up into the mount. 
The great lawgiver of Israel parted from 



48 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

his people, and with solemn step was seen 
scaling the rocks and climbing the heights, 
till at last the cloud received him in its 
bosom. 

The moral law was given, and also the 
civil code, which men have so learnedly 
traced to the social compact. The first act 
in the mighty drama was ended, and Moses 
was ordered to bring up Aaron and Nadab 
and Abihu, and seventy of the elders, to 
worship in the mountain ; and God showed 
himself in his glory to them. 

When this strange worship was ended, 
the voice of Jehovah was again heard issu- 
ing from the cloud ; but what a change in 
the mean time had passed over its dark 
form. A serene and pure radiance began to 
play around it, quivering like a bright light 
with its own intensity. Brighter and brighter 
it grew till the eye turned away dazzled by 
the sight. Brighter still it gleamed till it 
seemed a glowing furnace, shooting forth 
living fire on every side. Its wrathful streaks 



MOUNT SINAI. 49 

streamed down the mountain, filling the 
cavities with deeper gloom, touching every 
rock and crag with flame, and bathing the 
white tents in a lurid light. And when the 
night came on, and darkness wrapped the 
world, that mountain was one blaze of glory, 
shedding a strange lustre on the barren 
scene, and revealing every face and form of 
that immense host, as if they stood beneath 
a burning palace, — painting with terrible dis- 
tinctness, and in lines of fire, the surrounding 
landscape. The stars went out before its 
brilliancy, and the moon looked dark in its 
splendor. For six days and nights did the 
glory flame on, shedding such a baptism on 
the wondering camp as was never before 
witnessed by mortal eye, for "the sight of 
the glory of the Lord was like a devouring 
fire on the top of the mount in the eyes of 
the children of Israel.' 7 Little sleep was in 
the tents of Jacob then, for each one held his 
breath in awe, wondering what next would 
nappen in this succession of strange scenes. 



50 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

At length that voice, before which nature 
herself seemed to change, again issued from 
the cloud, calling Moses to a second inter- 
view. Taking Joshua with him, he again 
ascended the hill, and was wrapped from 
sight " forty days and forty nights." 

But as week after week passed by, and 
there were no farther exhibitions, and Moses 
did not return, the people passed from idle 
ness into pleasure, and from pleasure into in 
fidelity, and at length emboldened by their 
own numbers, assembled tumultuously to- 
gether and demanded another God, saying, 
" As for this man Moses, who has brought us 
here, we do not know what has become of 
him.' 7 The golden calf was made, and the 
intoxicated throng danced around it. What 
a scene was there ! Right at the foot of 
Sinai, where a month before they had heard 
the thunders and trumpet and voice, and 
seen the lightnings and the glory; danced, 
and shouted, and sung, in bacchanalian 
frenzy the naked multitude — hailing in bois- 



MOUNT SINAI. 51 

terous shouts a golden calf as their god ! 
What a contrast to the scene passing on the 
top of the mountain between Jehovah and 
Moses ! ! 

In th& midst of this wild and blasphemous 
revel, Moses was seen descending, with 
thoughtful step, the distant slope, bearing in 
his arms the tables of the law. At length, 
as he and Joshua, in serious converse, passed 
along, they came within hearing of the tu- 
mult below. Suddenly stopping, they turned 
their anxious eyes to the white tents, far, 
far down in the valley, and Joshua said, 
" There is fighting in the camp : I hear the 
sound of battle." But the practiced ear of 
Moses knew to<p\ well the meaning of that 
confused murmur. " No," said he, " that is 
not the shout of victors in the pursuit, nor 
the shriek of the vanquished flying in fear, 
1 but the noise of them that sing do I hear.' " 
As he drew near and saw the shameless 
revel and blasphemous worship, he cast the 
tables at his feet and rushed into the camp. 



52 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

The naked throng paled before him as if he 
had been a messenger of death ; the dancing 
ceased, and the song and deafening shouts 
were suddenly hushed. Turning neither to 
the right hand nor the left, he passed, with 
a brow dark as wrath, to the golden idol, 
and hurling it into the fire trampled it 
under foot. Then turning to Aaron, he 
asked an explanation of this strange scene. 

As soon as it was given, he hastened to 
the gate of the camp, and sending his voice 
like a trumpet call through the host, cried 
out, " Whoever is on the Lord's side, let him 
come to me !" The sons of Levi separated 
themselves from the crowd and flocked about 
him. " Seize now, (said he to these,) every 
man his sword, and go in and out from gate 
to gate throughout the camp, and slay every 
man his brother, and every man his com- 
panion, and every man his neighbor." Amid 
the silence that followed were heard sobs 
and cries of despair; and lo! that terrible 
band, with drawn swords press into the 



MOUNT SINAI. 53 

throng. There is no shout of battle, no cry 
of anger, though the sword drinks blood at 
every step. The moan of despair and the 
sudden death-shriek alone tell where those 
stern warriors pass. And now, enveloped in 
the dense mass, the eye can tell where they 
move only by the flash of dripping swords, 
as they sweep in angry circles above their 
heads. Though their hearts bleed at every 
stroke, and a deeper paleness is on their 
brow as they sheathe their weapons in then 
brethrens' bosoms, and the lip quivers before 
the beseeching look of a once beloved friend, 
their steadfast hearts must feel no relenting. 
The dead lie in swaths where they go, and 
their weary arms droop beneath the pro- 
tracted slaughter, yet on, on they press, till 
three thousand corpses cumber the field. 
Terrible scene — terrible vengeance — but the 
sword of Divine Justice is ever awful. 

Why speak of the after repentance and 
consecration — of the second ascent into Sinai 
— of the passing of Jehovah before Moses — 

5* 



64 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

of the still radiance that beamed from his 
face as he came once more unto the people, 
until they turned dazzled from his presence. 
The mighty pageant at length closed — the 
cloud-column rose from before the tabernacle 
and moved into the desert ; the tents were 
struck ; and the host, headed by that myste- 
rious pillar, in one long column disappeared 
in the wilderness, and that fearful mountain 
was left once more alone amid the bleak and 
barren scenery. 

Turned into sapphire by Jehovah's feet, 
consecrated by his touch, and baptized by 
the cloud of fire and of glory, Mount Sinai 
stood the third Sacred Mountain on the 
earth. 



\^^^^^^'^: 



4 *V 



Is 



■ ■ 





It must have been a grievous oftence of 
which Moses and Aaron were guilty, when 
commanded to bring water out of the rock 
for the children of Israel, to have demanded 
such punishment from heaven as was imme- 
diately pronounced. That miracle must 
have been attended with strange exhibitions 
of human presumption and rebellion, or God 
would not have slain the two great leaders 
of Israel, after all their toils on the very 
margin of the promised land, and conferred 
the honor of conducting his people over Jor- 
dan, on one whose labors seemed to give 
him no claim to it. Said God to Moses and 
Aaron, " Because ye believed me not, to 



56 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

sanctify me in the eyes of the children of Is- 
rael, therefore ye shall not bring this congre- 
gation into the land which I have given 
them." Aaron was the first to bow to this 
stern decree, and died on the top of Mount 
Hor, while Moses was permitted to feast his 
eyes on the promised land, — then buried on 
the summit of Pisgah. These two great 
leaders in Israel — these wonderful brothers 
to whom the Gracchi and Horatii of the 
world are but as dim shadows of men, died 
on two mountain peaks, making them im- 
mortal in history. 

Aaron never appears so perfect a charac- 
ter as Moses. He does not seem so much 
above the follies and prejudices of his age. 
He was more a man of the times, subject to 
passing influences and prevailing tastes. Mo- 
ses, on the contrary, was one of those rare 
characters in history which seem to live in 
the past, present, and future. Reverencing the 
good that has been — understanding the full 
scope and drift of the present, he at the same 



MOUNT HOR. 



57 



time comprehends and lives in the future. 
Such a man the ardor of hope never beguiles 
into scorn of the past, nor over-reverence of 
the present. Like those mountain summits 
which first catch the sunlight, he rises out 
of the darkness and prejudice below him, 
heralding the day that is approaching. Nei- 
ther does Aaron seem borne up and onward 
by so lofty a feeling as he. With mind less 
strong, he lacked also the enthusiasm of his 
brother. Yet he must have possessed rare 
gifts to have been chosen the companion and 
fellow-laborer of Moses in that wondrous 
deliverance of the children of Israel from 
Egypt, and in conducting them forty years 
through the wilderness to the promised land. 
Much more must he have possessed, an ele- 
vation and purity of character far above his 
fellows, to have been chosen as the founder 
of the Jewish priesthood — the first to minis- 
ter at the altar, and to represent a sacerdotal 
dynasty more glorious and more immortal 



58 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

than the line even of David, or any succes- 
sion of kings that ever filled a throne. 

Chosen by God to stand beside Moses 
through the night of peril and trouble on 
which the children of Jacob were entering, 
he was sent to meet him on his way from 
the wilderness. Obeying the command, he 
set out in search of his brother, and lo, they 
met " on the Mount of God" and kissed each 
other, and returned together, conversing as 
they went, to the court of Pharaoh. Who 
can tell the misgivings and fear of these soli- 
tary brothers, standing unprotected by hu- 
man power before the throne of Pharaoh, 
and raining on the oppressive monarch the 
terrible denunciations of heaven ? Who has 
ever repeated their solemn interviews as 
they retired a^art and conversed of the mira- 
cles they had performed, and the message 
of God which daily came to them from 
heaven ? Brave men ! day after day they 
stood between their enslaved brethren and 
a haughty court, waiting patiently the ful- 



MOUNT HOR, 59 

filment of the promise, still delayed, until at 
length their efforts were crowned with suc- 
cess, and the thousands of Israel separated 
themselves from their task-masters, and at 
midnight moved away from the scene of their 
degradation and their sufferings. Through 
all those terrible plagues that desolated 
Egypt — in the desperate retreat before the 
thundering chariots of Pharaoh's army — 
amid the murmuring multitude that clam- 
ored against their deliverers who had thus 
led them forth only to be slaughtered — 
through the channel of deep waters, while 
the waves foamed and crested along the 
high brink that toppled above, Aaron never 
faltered, but, side by side with his brother, 
moved firm and steady as the pillar of fire 
that led them on. 

At length he was called forth from the 
congregation by the voice of God, and or- 
dained High Priest, amid the most solemn 
ceremonies that ever attended a human 
anointing, and the sacred robe was put about 



60 SACRED MOUNTAINS, 

him ? and he stood the mediator between the 
people and their Maker. 

But in the sedition which he planned with 
Miriam against his brother, he was governed 
by a spirit of envy and a desire to overthrow 
him, and exhibited that weakness of charac- 
ter of which I spoke. Yet, doubtless, Miriam 
was the more guilty of the two, in this shame- 
ful conspiracy ; for when the Lord suddenly 
descended in the pillar of cloud, and, with 
Moses, and Aaron, and Miriam before him, 
sternly rebuked the erring brother and sister, 
the latter only was punished. Smitten with 
leprosy, she emerged from the mysterious 
cloud that covered the tabernacle, " white as 
snow." So also in making the golden calf 
at the bidding of the people, and allowing 
them to degrade themselves in the eyes of 
God and man, he showed that he lacked the 
loftiness of character which made Moses so 
much feared, and rendered him so utterly in- 
capable of becoming a partner in such folly 
and wickedness. Still he was made the 



MOUNT HOR, 61 

first High Priest of Israel, and clothed with 
the richest honors of heaven. 

But like Moses, he was not to see Canaan ; 
and when the long column of Israel's thou- 
sands stretched across the desert, and wound 
around the base of Mount Hor, and pitched 
their tents in its mighty shadow, his work 
was done and his career ended. Said God 
to Moses, " Aaron shall be gathered unto his 
people, for he shall not enter into the land 
which I have given unto the children of Is- 
rael, because ye rebelled against my word at 
the waters of Meribah. Take Aaron and 
Eleazar his son, and bring them up unto 
Mount Hor and strip Aaron of his garments, 
and put them upon Eleazar his son; and 
Aaron shall be gathered unto his people and 
shall die there. And Moses did as the Lord 
commanded : and they went up into Mount 
Hor in the sight of all the congregation." 
Whether the solemn event about to happen 
to Aaron was made known to the people, 
and they took a sad farewell of him as they 



62 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

did afterwards of Moses when he went up 
Nebo, we cannot tell. But from the brief 
account left us, it is probable that the se- 
cret of his death was not divulged to the 
congregation, and when he and his son, and 
Moses together, left the camp and began to 
ascend the solitary and barren mountain, — ri- 
sing out of the midst of the desert, — that the 
ten thousand eyes that strained after, sought 
in vain to pierce the mystery that surround- 
ed them. Perhaps they expected another 
exhibition of God there similar to the one on 
Sinai. Its solitary position — its command- 
ing top made it a fit place for such a scene, 
and as they saw those three forms climb 
the rugged rocks and precipitous sides, and 
finally stand on the bold and barren summit, 
they may have looked for the descent of that 
wondrous cloud which filled them with such 
terror on Sinai. God was about to speak, 
but to Moses, and Aaron, and Eleazar alone. 
The two brothers stood on that high eleva- 
tion together, and gazed for a moment on the 



MOUNT H OR , 



63 



scene below. There were the countless tents 
of Israel sprinkled over the plain, never more 
to be entered by Aaron. Farther off arose 
the city of Edom, and still farther away like 
a mirror in the landscape, glittered the Dead 
Sea, whose dark waters slumbered above 
Sodom and Gomorrah. Behind them rose 
Mount Seir, and away to the mouth of the 
Jordan, stretched the valley of El Ghor. All 
was sad, mournful, and silent. How long the 
brothers stood and talked together, we cannot 
tell. Their embraces and repeated farewells 
were not seen except by Eleazar, and the high 
priest's prayers were unheard by those who 
so often had invoked his intercessions at the 
altar of sacrifice. Aaron's last prayer ! the 
brother and son who heard it, felt that the 
High Priest had found a Mediator, before 
whom a broken heart and contrite spirit were 
the only sacrifice demanded. He had once 
stayed up Moses' arm in the fight, by his 
prayers to the God of battle, and now they 
sustained each other in this last greatest 



64 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

trial. Methinks, that Aaron knelt there, on 
the top of the barren mountain, and with 
his hand on the head of his son, commended 
him to the God of Israel, with tears and in- 
tercessions such only as a parent can use. 
His last instructions had more of heaven 
than earth in them, and his last farewell was 
worthy of the High Priest of Israel. Moses, 
as he stripped him of his sacerdotal robes, 
doubtless spoke of their speedy meeting in 
that Canaan, of which the one they sought 
was but the type. He knew that his own 
hour was nigh, and that his brother's death 
was but the prelude to his own. It was a 
sad task given him to take the sacred vesture 
from his brother ; and, as it were, clothe him 
while in full health, with his funeral shroud. 
And the son, the pure-minded, noble, and af- 
fectionate son, with what tears and choking 
grief did he see his father despoiled of his 
honors, and himself clad in his priestly gar- 
ments! It was a heavy trial to all — to 
brother, father, and son, and a mournful 



MOUNT HOR, 65 

scene there on the top of the mountain. But 
the last embrace was at length given and 
taken — the last prayer breathed and the High 
Priest of Israel laid down to die. Glorious 
was his departure from the top of that lordly 
mountain — triumphant his last words as his 
eyes closed on his son, and opened again in 
heaven. 

When the people of Israel saw Moses and 
Eleazar return alone, and were told that 
Aaron was dead, they mourned thirty days. 

Mount Hor is a lonely peak, seen at a 
great distance from the desert, and consti- 
tutes one of the landmarks by which the 
Arab guides his way. On its summit is a 
white building called the tomb of Aaron ; 
Mahometans and Christians reverence it 
alike, and the sepulchre of the High Priest 
is safe from the ravages even of the Arab of 
the desert. A landmark in the bleak sce- 
nery, within sight of the desolate city of 
Edom and its pillared rocks, overlooking the 

Dead Sea, it is a fit place for the tomb of 
6* 



66 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

Aaron, and stands consecrated forever. An 
imperishable testimonial of the truth of the 
Bible — a stern witness of the fulfilment of 
prophecy — a cursed city and a cursed moun- 
tain on either side — it arrests the traveller's 
eye from afar, and fills him with awe and 
fear as it silently and perpetually speaks of 
God. 




Perhaps there is no mountain on our 
planet, which from its associations has fur- 
nished more cheering promises to man than 
Mount Pisgah. Around its summit cluster 
some of the most glorious truths of our re- 
ligion, and a light falls there like the radi- 
ance of heaven itself. But of these I do not 
design to speak. Others have exhibited 
these truths better than I could ; and follow- 
ing out my original plan, I wish merely to 
describe the scenes connected with this 
mountain, rather than the truths they de- 
velop. 

Moses, like Aaron, was denied entrance 
into the land of Canaan. Though he had 



68 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

braved the wrath of Pharaoh, renounced his 
worldly expectations, perilled his life, and led 
on the hosts of Israel for forty years through 
the wilderness, for the sole purpose of reaching 
the promised land, his eyes were only to be 
once gladdened by the sight. He had escaped 
the w T rath of his pursuers — the pestilence 
that swept so many thousands to death — the 
bite of the flaming serpents that strewed the 
camp with so many thousands more — even 
the decay of the body itself — to die at last 
by special decree, in sight of the very object 
of all his toils — the anticipated rest from all 
his labors. The sea had been passed — the 
murmurs of the people borne with — the long 
weary desert travelled over — forty years of 
the prime of life exhausted, to secure one 
single object, and then he died with that ob- 
ject unreached, though spread out in all its 
tempting loveliness before him. 

Angry when the people clamored for 
water — daring to carry out the commands 
of the Lord in a petulant spirit — assembling 



MOUNT PISGAH, 69 

the people hastily, without sanctifying them 
for the great miracle about to be performed, 
addressing them roughly, and claiming the 
credit of the miracle, though perhaps unin- 
tentionally, saying, " must ice bring water 
out of the rock V and smiting, in his vexa- 
tion, the rock twice, instead of once, as he 
had been commanded, and thereby injuring 
the type, — Moses had so displeased the Lord 
that he denied him entrance into Canaan. 

In whatever relations we behold Moses, 
with the above single exception, he is ever 
the same sublime and majestic character. 
Noble by nature, great by his mission, and 
greater still by the manner in which he ac- 
complished it, he ever maintains his ascen- 
dency over our feelings. We see the fiery 
promptings of the heart that could not brook 
oppression, in the bloody vengeance he took 
on the Egyptian who would trample on his 
brother. Preferring the desert with freedom 
to the court of Pharaoh in sight of injustice, 
he led the life of a fugitive. Called by a 



70 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

voice from heaven to go back to deliver his 
people, he again trod the courts of the King 
of Egypt. 

But not in the presence of Pharaoh when 
he withstood the monarch to his face, and 
brought down the thunders of heaven on his 
throne — not on the beach of the sea, with 
one arm upraised towards heaven, and the 
other stretched out over the water, while the 
waves that went surging by stopped and 
crouched at his feet — not in the midst of the 
raining manna — not in the lifting of the 
brazen symbol in the midst of the flying ser- 
pents, while the moan of suffering and the 
cries of the dying struggled up from the 
crowded encampment — not when, between 
the mountains, his stately form shone in the 
light of the blazing fiery pillar, while the 
tread of the mighty multitude shook the 
earth behind him — nor even when he stood 
on shaking Sinai, his guard the thunder and 
his vesture the lightning, and talked with 
the Eternal as friend talketh with friend, — 



MOUNT PISGAH. 71 

not in all these awful relations does he ap- 
pear to me so majestic and attractive as in 
this last event of his life. 

Behold the white tents of Israel scattered 
over the plain and swelling knolls at the fool 
of Mount Nebo. It is a balmy, glorious day. 
The sun is sailing over the encampment, 
while the blue sky bends like God in love 
over all things. Here and there a fleecy 
cloud is hovering over the top of Pisgah, as 
if conscious of the mysterious scene about to 
transpire there. The trees stand green and 
fresh in the sunlight ; the lowing of cattle 
rises through the still atmosphere, and na- 
ture is lovely and tranquil, as if no sounds 
of grief were to disturb her repose. 

Amid this beauty and quietness, Moses as- 
sembled the children of Israel for the last 
time, to take his farewell look, and leave his 
farewell blessing. He cast his eye over the 
leaders beside him, and over the host, while 
a thousand contending emotions struggled for 
the mastery in his bosom. The past with its 



72 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

toils and suffering rose up before him, and 
how could he part with his children, — mur- 
muring and ungrateful though they had been, 
whom he had borne on his brave heart for 
more than forty years ? Self-collected and 
calm he stood before them and gave them 
his last blessing. He made no complaints — 
never spoke of his hardships in their behalf; 
made no allusion to his anguish in leaving 
them on the very verge of Canaan, the ob- 
ject for which he had toiled so long. He 
did not even refer to his death. In the mag- 
nanimity of his great heart, forgetful of him- 
self, or else not daring to trust his feelings in 
an allusion to his fate, he closed his sublime 
address in the following touching language : 
11 The eternal God is thy refuge, and under- 
neath are the everlasting arms ; and he shall 
thrust out the enemy before thee: Israel 
then shall dwell in safety alone. Happy art 
thou, O Israel: who is like unto thee, oh 
people saved by the Lord, the shield of thy 
help, and who is the sword of thy excel- 



MOUNT PISGAH. 73 

lency !" Noble language — noble heart. Car- 
ried away in the contemplation of his chil- 
dren's happiness, he burst forth into excla- 
mations of joy in the moment of his deepest 
distress. But did not that manly voice falter 
and that stern lip quiver as he advanced to bid 
them his last adieu 1 For a moment methinks 
the rising emotions checked his utterance. 
They had been the companions of his toil — 
the objects of his deepest solicitude. A 
common suffering, a common fate, had bound 
them to him by a thousand ties. He looked 
back on the desert : it was past. He looked 
forward on Canaan : it was near. He turned 
to the people, and they were weeping. He 
cast his eye up Nebo, and he knew he must 
die. Although no complaint escaped his 
lips — no regret fell from his tongue, a deeper 
paleness was on his cheek, and a sternei 
strife in his heart than he had ever felt be- 
fore. Though outwardly calm, his stern na- 
ture shook for a moment like a cedar in a 

tempest, and then the struggle was over. 

7 



74 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

His farewell was echoed in melancholy tones 
from lip to lip through the vast host, as he 
turned to ascend the mountain. As he ad- 
vanced from rock to rock, the sobbing of the 
multitude that followed after, tore his heart- 
strings like the suffering cry of a child its pa- 
rent's, and it was long before he dare trust 
himself to turn and look below. But at length 
he paused on a high rock and gazed a mo- 
ment on the scene at his feet. There were 
the white tents of Jacob glittering in the sun- 
light, and there the dark mass of Israel's 
host as they stood and watched the form of 
their departing leader. Those tents had be- 
come familiar to him as household scenes, 
and as he gazed on them now, far, far be- 
neath him, and saw the cloud overshadow- 
ing the mysterious ark, a sigh of unutterable 
sadness escaped him. He thought of the 
bones of Joseph he had carried for forty 
years, that were to rest with his descen- 
dants, while he was to be left alone amid 
the mountains. Again he turned to the as- 



MOUNT PISGAH. 75 

cent, and soon a rock shut him from view, 
and he passed on alone to the summit. 

There God miraculously spread before 
him all the land of Canaan. He stood a 
speck on the high crag, and gazed on the 
lovely scene. Jordan went sweeping by in 
the glad sunlight. Palm trees shook their 
green tops in the summer wind, and plains 
and cities and vineyards spread away in 
endless beauty before him. But ah, me- 
thinks he saw more than the landscape smi- 
ling beneath the eastern sky. The history of 
the future was unrolled before him. He saw 
the manger of Bethlehem, and also the star 
that hung over it. There lay glittering in 
the landscape the sea of Galilee, but he saw 
more than the water ; he beheld the myste- 
rious form walking there in the midst of the 
midnight storm. He saw Jerusalem in its 
glory and downfall. He heard the birth- 
song of the angels, and shout of the shep- 
herds, — and last of all, a mysterious mount 
rose before him, wrapped in storm and cloud, 



76 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

through whose gloomy foldings gleamed a 
cross. The clouds rolled away, and lo, the 
Strength of Israel, the Refuge of Judah, hung 
in death. Again the vision changed — the 
sepulchre was open, and like an ascending 
glory that form rose to heaven. 

The scene vanished from his sight, and 
with the rock for his couch and the blue sky 
for his covering, he laid down to die. Oh, 
who can tell what the mighty lawgiver felt, 
left in that dreadful hour alone ! The mys- 
tery of mysteries was to be passed. No 
friend was beside his couch to soothe him, 
no voice to encourage him in that last, dark- 
est of all human struggles. No one was 
with him but God, and though with one 
hand he smote him, with the other he held 
his dying head. How long was he dying? 
God alone can answer. What words did 
his quivering lips last utter? God alone 
knows, Was his last prayer for Israel ? — 
his last words of the Crucified % From that 
lonely rock did a shout go up — " Oh Death, 



MOUNT PISGAH. 77 

where is thy sting 7 Oh Grave, where is 
thy victory?" Of that last scene and its 
changes we know nothing, but when it was 
over, Moses lay a corpse on the mountain 
top. And God buried him. There he slept 
alone — the mountain cloud which night 
hung round him was his only shroud, and 
the thunder of the passing storm his only 
dirge. There he slept while centuries rolled 
by, his grave unknown and unvisited, until 
at length he is seen standing on Mount Ta- 
bor, w r ith Christ, in the Transfiguration. 
Over Jordan at last — in Canaan at last. 

I will not speak here of the instruction 
this scene affords : but from the very summit 
of his sorrows, where he had gone to die, 
Moses for the first time in his life, caught a 
view of Canaan. He did not know as he 
went over the rocks, torn and weary, how 
lovely the prospect was from the top. In 
this world it frequently happens that when 
man has reached the place of anguish, God 

folds away the mist from before his eyes, 

7# 



78 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

and the very spot he selected as the recepta- 
cle of his tears becomes the place of his 
highest rapture. 

For thirty days did the Israelites mourn 
at the base of that mountain over their de- 
parted leader, and then mournfully struck 
their tents and moved away. Consecrated 
by the death of Moses — receiving his lasl 
prayer and last sigh, Mount Pisgah stood 
the Jjfth sacred mountain on the earth. 







Mount Horeb not being so isolated as 
Ararat or Sinai, does not occupy so defi- 
nite a place in nature or history as they. 
One of the group that surrounds Sinai, it 
presents the same barren and desolate ap- 
pearance, and stands amid the same bleak 
and forbidding scenery. These solemn sum- 
mits rise together in the same heavens, and 
the silent language they speak has the same 
meaning. Still, Horeb has less distinguish- 
ing characteristics than Sinai, and the latter 
overshadows it as much in interest as it 
does in nature. The Mount of Terror is 
monarch there in the desert, and all other 
summits are but his body guard. They wit- 



80 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

nessed his grand coronation when the law 
was given, and shook to the thunders that 
honored the ceremony. 

Mount Horeb has not been consecrated 
once, but thrice, and hence has a threefold 
claim for a place amid the immortal list of 
Sacred Mountains. Moses learned his first 
lessons around its base, and amid its soli- 
tudes formed the thoughtful, stern, and de- 
cided character which rendered him fit to be 
the leader of Israel. When in his impetuous 
youth he slew the Egyptian that would 
trample on his countryman, he came thither 
to escape the penalty of the deed. After 
the first gust of indignation had swept by, 
and he saw the lifeless corpse at his feet, 
alarm took the place of passion, and hastily 
covering the dead man in the sand, he fled 
to the desert. Month after month he wan- 
dered about Horeb, thinking of Egypt and 
the royal court he dared not enter. Away 
from the temptations of the palace, and be- 
yond the reach of the conflicting motives, 



MOUNT HOREB. 81 

that might sway him there, he trod the 
desert a free man. With nought but Nature 
and God to teach him, his character must be 
simple and manly, and his principles upright 
and pure. Amid the grand and striking fea- 
tures of mountain scenery, he could not but 
learn to hate tyranny and love freedom still 
more, and when, at length, his character 
was settled on a broad and permanent basis, 
God sent him back to Egypt to deliver his 
people. 

Wandering one morning along the slopes 
of Horeb, he saw before him a solitary bush 
blazing from top to bottom, but still uncon- 
sumed. Every branch was a fiery branch, 
and every leaf a leaf of fire that glowed un- 
wasted in the still flame. As he stood 
amazed and awe-struck at the sight, a voice 
whose tones were yet to be familiar to his 
ear exclaimed, " Take thy shoes from off thy 
feet, for the place on which thou standest is 
Holy Ground." Here Moses received his 
first commission, and here was God's first 



82 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

outward demonstration to him in behalf of 
his people. 

In the exciting scenes through which he 
afterwards passed in Egypt, he may have 
entirely forgotten Horeb. But after the 
plagues, and death, and flight, and pursuit, 
and Red Sea passage, and overthrow of his 
enemies, had all been left behind, and the 
host of Israel entered the desert, the familiar 
scenery he began to approach must have 
waked up strange associations in his heart. 
At length the well-remembered form of 
Horeb, where he had wandered lonely and 
solitary, self-exiled from his home, rose be- 
fore him. A gloomy fugitive he first saw 
that desolate mountain in the distance ; — a 
leader of a mighty people, and the chosen of 
God, he pitched his tent the second time at 
its base. Doubtless his first inverview with 
the Deity here, caused him to expect some 
other revelations now that the commission 
he had given him had been fulfilled. How 
much his early experience had to do with 



MOUNT HOREB. 



83 



his encamping on this spot with the host of 
Israel it is impossible to tell; but that he 
should expect that God who had first sent 
him forth should here give him further in- 
structions was most natural. His expecta- 
tions were not disappointed, and Sinai and 
Horeb together became the scene of the 
most wondrous events of human history. 
The shadow of Sinai falls over Horeb, and 
they stand together in immortal brotherhood. 
They cannot well be separated in contem- 
plating the revelations of God to his people, 
on their journey from Egypt to Canaan, and 
hence I have not attempted it. 

Still, there are other scenes connected 
with Horeb, in which Sinai is not mention- 
ed. Twice had it been honored by the pres- 
ence of Deity, which had so consecrated it 
that we find the angel of the Lord after- 
wards calling it "the Mount of QodP It 
was however destined for a third baptism. 
When Elijah, hunted by Jezebel, fled for his 
life, he wandered across the desert to this 



84 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

mountain. His prayers had brought rain 
upon the parched and desolate earth, but his 
sword had also drank the blood of the 
prophets of Baal, and Jezebel had sent him 
word that she would do to him as he had 
done to her prophets ; and so he fled into 
the wilderness and sat down under a juniper 
tree and prayed for death. Weary and dis- 
couraged, the hunted fugitive laid down and 
slept on the barren heath, when the angel of 
the Lord touched him and bade him arise 
and go to Mount Horeb. Elijah started for 
the desert, and after travelling for more than 
a month, he at length, worn and exhausted, 
came to the mountain, and took up his soli- 
tary lodgings in a cave. How many deso- 
late days and lonely nights he passed there 
we know not, but broken in spirit, nay, his 
faith itself weak and well nigh gone, his 
hours whether few or many were full of de- 
spondency and sorrow. Both the blessings 
and judgments he had brought on Israel, 
attended, though they had been, with mira- 



MOUNT HOREB, 85 

cles, had failed to turn the people from their 
wickedness. That Elijah was still in the 
despairing mood which caused him to pray 
under the juniper tree for death is evident 
both from the interrogation of the Deity and 
the reply of the prophet. " The Lord said 
unto him, What doest thou here, Elijah? 
And he said, I have been very jealous for 
the Lord God of Hosts, for the children of 
Israel have forsaken thy covenants, thrown 
down thy altars, and slain thy prophets with 
the sword ; and I, even I only am left, and 
they seek my life. And he said, Go forth 
and stand upon the mount.' 7 Jehovah was 
about to reveal himself, and Elijah evidently 
expected some exhibition of divine goodness 
or power, though he was not prepared for 
the scene which was about to transpire. 
Before he reached the entrance of his cave 
he heard a roar louder than the sea, that ar- 
rested his footsteps and sent the blood back 
to his heart. The next moment there came 

a blast of wind, as if the last chain that 

8 



86 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

bound it had suddenly been thrown off and 
it had burst forth in all its unrestrained and 
limitless energy. In the twinkling of an eye 
the sun w x as blotted out by the cloud of dust, 
and the fragments that filled the air as it 
whirled them in fierce eddies onward. It 
shrieked and howled around the mouth of 
the cave, while the fierce hissing sound of 
its steady pressure against the heart of the 
mountain was more terrible than its ocean- 
like roar. Before its fury and strength rocks 
were loosened from their beds and hurled 
through the gloom — the earth rent where it 
passed, and so boundless seemed its strength 
that the steady mountain threatened to lift 
from its base and be carried away. Amid 
this deafening uproar and confusion and 
darkness and terror, the stunned and awe- 
struck Elijah expected to see the form of 
Jehovah moving; but that resistless blast, 
strewing the sides of Horeb with wreck and 
chaos was not God in motion : 



MOUNTHOREB. 87 

" 'Twas but the whirlwind of his breath, 
Announcing danger, wreck, and death." 

The hurricane passed by, and that wild 
strife of the elements ceased ; but before the 
darkened heavens could clear themselves 
the prophet heard a rumbling sound in the 
bowels of the mountain, and the next mo- 
ment an earthquake was on the march. 
Stern Horeb rocked to and fro like a vessel 
in a storm, and its bosom parted with the 
sound of thunder before the convulsive 
throbs that seemed rending the very heart 
of nature. Fathomless abysses opened on 
every side, and huge precipices, toppling 
over the chasms at their base, went thun- 
dering through the darkness. The fallen 
prophet lay on the floor of his cavern and 
listened to the grinding, crushing sound 
around and beneath him, and the steady 
shocks more terrible than all that ever and 
anon shook the heights, thinking that Jeho- 
vah at last stood before him. Surely it was 
his mighty hand that laid on that trembling, 



88 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

tottering mountain, and his strong arm that 
rocked it so wildly on its base. No, " God 
was not in the earthquake." 

44 'Twas but the thundering of his car, 
The trampling of his steeds from far." 

The commotion ceased, and Nature stood 
" and calmed her ruffled frame :" but in the 
deep, ominous silence that followed, there 
seemed a foreshadowing of some new terror, 
and lo, the heavens were suddenly on fire, 
and a sheet of flame fell like falling lightning 
from the sky. Its lurid light pierced to the 
depths of Elijah's cavern till it glowed like 
an oven, and from base to summit of Mount 
Horeb there went up a vast cloud of smoke, 
fast and furious, while the entire sides 
flowed with torrents of fire. The mountain 
glowed with a red heat, and stood like a 
huge burning furnace under a burning heav- 
en, and groaned on its ancient seat as if 
in torture. But God was not in the fiery 
storm. 

m »Twas but the lightning of his eye" 



MOUNT HOREB. 89 

that had kindled that mountain into a blaze, 
and filled the air with flame. 

But this too passed by, and what new 
scene of terror could rise worthy to herald 
the footsteps of God — what greater outward 
grandeur could surround his presence ? The 
astonished prophet still lay upon his face 
wrapped in wonder, and filled with fear at 
these exhibitions of Almighty power, wait- 
ing for the next scene in this great drama, 
when suddenly through the deep quiet, and 
breathless hush that had succeeded the 
earthquake and the storm, there arose " a 
still small voice," the like of which had 
never met his ear before. It was " small 
and still," but it thrilled the prophet's frame 
with electric power, and rose so sweet and 
clear, 

" That all in heaven and earth might hear ; 
It spoke of peace — it spoke of love, 
It spoke as angels speak above." 

And God was in the voice. The prophet 

knew that He was nigh, and, rising up, 

8* 



90 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

wrapped his mantle about his face, and 
went to the mouth of the cave, and rever- 
ently stood and listened. Oh, who can tell 
the depth and sweetness of the tones of that 
voice which the Lord of love deemed wor- 
thy to announce his coming. A ransomed 
spirit's harp — an angel's lute — a seraph's 
song, could not have moved the prophet so. 
But while his whole being, soul and body, 
trembled to its music, a sterner voice met 
his ear, saying, " What doest thou here, Eli- 
jah"?" The prophet again poured the tale 
of his woes and of Israel's sin into the Infi- 
nite bosom. His wrongs were promised re- 
dress, and Israel deliverance ; and the hunted 
exile went boldly back to his people, and 
Horeb again stood silent and alone in the 
desert. 



wn 




M rt 



Mount Carmel stands by the sea, lifting 
its head two thousand feet above the water, 
looking off on Sharon towards the south, 
while inland Tabor shows dim through the 
hazy atmosphere. Its shape is that of a flat- 
tened cone, and it is one of the most pictur- 
esque objects in that land of glorious asso- 
ciations. Two scenes, totally different, yet 
thrilling in the extreme, have transpired on 
its summit. Elijah and Mount Carmel go 
together, and no time nor change can sepa- 
rate them in human history. 

Under the reign of the despot Ahab, Is- 
rael had forsaken the commandments of God 
and his worship, and gone over to idolatry 



92 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

till vice and cruelty covered the land. To 
bring the nation to reflection God declared 
through Elijah that no rain should fall on 
the earth for years; and lo, the heavens 
were shut up and became like brass over 
the thirsty fields. Every thing withered up 
— the corn shrivelled and died — the grass 
shrunk away and turned red in the fierce 
heat — the very trees drooped and died, and 
the once fat herds, reduced to skeletons, 
swarmed over the fields in search of food 
and water. The harvest remained ungath- 
ered, and the farmer looked with anxious, 
and then despairing heart on his barren 
fields and empty granaries. Men husbanded 
the little grain that was left, and all over 
Israel, food was measured out by piecemeal, 
for want began to stare them in face. The 
first year men were impoverished, the sec- 
ond ruined in their fortunes, but the third 
brought famine and all its horrors. Chil- 
dren pleading for bread died in their parents' 
arms — the old yielded up the ghost with a 



MOUNT CARMEL. 93 

groan, and the strong-limbed, fell bloated, on 
their own thresholds, and woe, and wretch- 
edness, were on every side. At first, Ahab 
was angry with Elijah, who had predicted 
this calamity, and attempted to slay him as 
the cause of it ; but the prophet fled from 
his hand. But, at length, the haughty king 
was frightened into apparent meekness, and 
then the prophet presented himself before 
him. The hunted fugitive trod the courts 
of the palace without fear, and more like a 
king than their ow r ner, and stood with a 
stern and haughty brow before the royal 
despot. The king looked on him a moment 
in surprise, as he stood wrapped in his man- 
tle before him, then said, " Art thou he that 
troubleth Israeli 7 The roused prophet, 
whose heart had bled over the sufferings of 
his beloved country, who would gladly have 
sacrificed his life to have saved it, could not 
brook the charge implied in this question. 
Hurling back the accusation in the very 
teeth of the king, he said, " / have not trou- 



94 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

bled Israel, but thou and thy father's house, in 
that ye have forsaken the commandments of 
the Lord and thou hast followed, Baalim" 
" Thou, proud monarch, art the enemy of 
thy country ; thou hast brought down the 
curse of heaven ; on thy head rests the guilt 
of all this woe and death." Such was the 
language the despised, and poor, and exiled 
prophet uttered in the ears of the astonished 
Ahab. Conscience had at length awoke, 
and he dared not resent it, but allowed him- 
self to be bearded on his very throne, sur- 
rounded by his vassals. Elijah saw that he 
was partially humbled by fear — and well he 
might be at the spectacle his country pre- 
sented — and so immediately proposed a trial 
of the respective claims of the prophets of 
the Lord and those of Baal : " Gather me," 
said he, " all Israel unto Mount Carmel, and 
with them four hundred and fifty of the 
prophets of Baal, and four hundred more of 
the prophets of the groves who sit at Jeze- 
bel's table." A strange proposal for a public 



MOUNT CARMfiL. 95 

criminal to make to a king, but there was 
something about him that awed the mon- 
arch, so that he dared not refuse his consent. 
That plain-clad man in his mantle, who had 
been a by-word for children for years, now 
dictated to the king, who had hunted him 
like a common felon, the length and breadth 
of Israel. His order was obeyed, and lo, all 
Israel came flocking to Carmel. Every road 
was thronged with the eager thousands : on 
foot, in carriages, and on horseback they 
went streaming onward, till every highway 
leading to the mountain was filled with the 
dust of hasty travellers. In the barren fields 
through which they rode — in the wan and 
haggard faces that stared on them as they 
passed, they saw evidence enough that Is- 
rael was troubled, and that it was time the 
cause was made known. 

The prophets of Baal, and of the groves, 
eight hundred and fifty of them in all, went 
in the pomp becoming their high station and 
power, and thus priest and people thronged 



96 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

together to this strange rendezvous. With- 
out a friend to cheer him, unless perchance 
Obadiah was with him, — on foot and alone, 
Elijah trod his weary way to the same 
solemn gathering. Behold the top of Car- 
mel covered with the multitude ! Below 
them heaves the blue Mediterranean, whose 
restless waters lose themselves in the dis- 
tance ; behind them is Palestine in its beau- 
ty, and, far away, the snow-capt heights of 
Lebanon fringe the horizon. It is a glori- 
ous spectacle beneath and around, and the 
solemn murmur of the sea perchance rises 
over the hum of the multitude. But soon 
one form and one voice arrest every eye and 
ear. Wrapped in his mantle, Elijah stands 
on the lordly summit, and casting his eye 
over the landscape, and over the throng, at 
length breaks forth : " How long halt ye be- 
tween two opinions ? If the Lord be God, 
follow him; but if Baal then folloio himP 
He paused, and gazed sternly on the thou- 
sands about him, but not a voice broke the 



MOUNT CARMEL. 97 

ominous silence. There was an air of au- 
thority about him that awed even the proph- 
ets of Baal ; and, in the confidence of a king 
rather than with the humility of a pro- 
scribed man, he made a proposal which 
should forever settle who was the true God, 
and which were the false. "I," said Elijah, 
u am the only prophet of the Lord left, while 
here are four hundred and fifty prophets of 
Baal. But let them now take two bullocks, 
and cut one in pieces, and lay it on wood 
without fire ; and I will dress the other bul- 
lock and lay it on wood, and put no fire un- 
der ; and they shall call on their God, and I 
will call on the Lord, and the God that an- 
swereth by fire let him be God." " It is 
well spoken,' 7 murmured the multitude ; " let 
it be tried." Whether the prophets wished 
to come to this conclusive issue or not, they 
were forced to it by the people. Doubtless, 
they feared a failure, but they hoped their 
numbers and their power might overawe 
Elijah, and it might be a mutual failure, and 



98 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

then the prophet's doom was sealed. He 
had called all Israel together, and the people 
were on the stretch of expectation, and any 
thing short of overwhelming success would 
be disgrace and death. " And I am left 
aloneP Yes, thou art alone, Elijah, and 
around thee are nearly a thousand vindic- 
tive foes, thirsting for thy blood ; and if thy 
God answers not by fire then wilt thou thy- 
self be offered up here on the mountain, a 
sacrifice to human hate. True, thou stand- 
est proudly there, with thy uplifted arm 
pointing towards heaven, and thy prophet's 
mantle wrapped about thee, and thy voice is 
like one who knows the secrets of God ; but 
woe to thee if thou hast deceived thyself 
and this mighty assembly. 

Thus thought many a heart as they saw 
Elijah, by one single act, bring the reputa- 
tion of God and his own life into apparent 
jeopardy. But now there was no retreat to 
either party, and the prophets of Baal cut 
their bullock in pieces, and laid it on the 



MOUNT CARMEL. 99 

wood, under the open sky, and began to pray. 
There was no room for deception here — all 
was open and clear, and eyery eye could see 
the fire that should fall from the cloudless 
heavens above. All was silent expectation 
and breathless anxiety as this strange scene 
commenced. The sun had just risen over 
the Holy Land, flooding Mount Carmel with 
his beams, as those four hundred and fifty 
prophets knelt, in one dense mass, around 
the altar and began their supplications. At 
first, solemn and fervent, as became the dig- 
nity of the occasion, they besought Baal, for 
his honor and for the sake of his followers, 
to hear them. To send down fire, and thus 
forever to silence the tongue of this hos- 
tile prophet, was a small matter for one so 
powerful. But no fire descended, — the sun 
rode quietly up the heavens, — the deep 
heaved calmly below, and the morning 
wind went seaward as gaily as ever. Thus 
they prayed till noon, while the people 
looked on. But at length frenzy took the 



100 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

place of supplication, and it was one wild 
shout around that bullock, as it lay smoking 
in the mid-day sun. Elijah till now had 
stood apart and quietly surveyed the scene, 
but as the excited throng began their mad 
outcries and frantic gestures, crying, "O 
Baal hear us!" his long suppressed scorn 
broke forth, and he taunted them in the 
midst of their ravings, and said, " Cry aloud, 
for he is a god ; perhaps he is busy talking, 
and cannot attend to you immediately ; or 
he is pursuing his foe, and cannot stop ; or 
perhaps he is on a journey, or asleep. Shout 
louder, and wake up your God." Bitter 
words, that only increased the frenzy of 
those to whom they were addressed, and they 
leaped upon the altar, flinging their arms 
aloft, crying out still more frantically, " O 
Baal, hear us !" They cut themselves with 
knives and lancets, till the blood streamed 
over the bullock, and shouted till Mount 
Carmel rung with their turbulent cries, 
and became a scene of indescribable confu- 



MOUNT CARMEL. 101 

sion ; but still the heavens were silent and 
serene as ever ; no voice answered them — ' 
no fire came down. 

At length the people began to tire of this 
exciting but useless scene, and the prophets 
themselves gave up in despair. Then came 
Elijah's turn. The sun was stooping to- 
wards the sea, and the time of the evening 
sacrifice approached. Standing up, he called 
the people to him, and, as they clustered 
around, he repaired the long neglected al- 
tar of the Lord, and placed upon it twelve 
stones for the twelve tribes of Israel. He 
then dug a trench around it, and having 
placed the wood on the altar, and the bul- 
lock on the wood, told the spectators to pour 
four barrels of water over them. They did 
so. " Do it the second time," said he, and 
they did it the second time, and the third 
time, till the trench was full to the brim, 
and the wood and the sacrifice were flooded. 
Here could be no deception, no concealed 

fire, nothing which could allow the prophets 
9* 



102 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

of Baal to declare the whole a trick, for the 
altar was flowing with water. 

All is now ready ; the disappointed proph- 
ets and Israel's thousands are looking anx- 
iously on. The blazing fireball is hanging 
over the waves below, and already the sea 
breeze is stealing landward, for the time of 
the evening sacrifice has arrived. Elijah 
advances towards the altar, with uncovered 
head and solemn countenance, but with no 
hesitation or alarm in his glance. His step 
is firm and his eye serene, as he moves 
across the space between him and the spec- 
tators. Yet, methinks, I hear a voice say- 
ing, " Gird now thyself, Elijah, for thine 
hour has come. Thy God and the God of 
Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, thou hast 
cast on one bold issue. Woe for thee, and 
woe for Israel, if thou failest !" 
"^ But he shall not fail. He kneels and prays. 
There is no confession of sin, no pleading for 
pardon, for he is not asking for blessings on 
his own head, or on that of his country : he 



MOUNT CARMEL. 103 

is asking God to vindicate himself, and make 
good his given word. There seems no ne- 
cessity for strong crying and earnest suppli- 
cation ; yet in that sudden outburst of u Hear 
me, O Lord, hear me!" I see the mighty 
wrestling of a mighty soul. He prays fer- 
vently, but solemnly. There is no contortion, 
no assumed tone or manner, as with uplift- 
ed hands he exclaims, " Lord God of Abra- 
ham, Isaac, and of Israel, let it be known 
this day that thou art god in israel, and 
that i am thy servant, and that i have 
done all these things at thy word. hear 
me, oh Lord, hear me, that this people 
may know that thou art the lord god, 
and that thou hast turned their heart 
back again." He ceased, and lo! from the 
cloudless heavens fire fell like falling light- 
ning, and the bullock smoked amid the 
water that flooded it, and a swift vapor rose 
from the top of Carmel, and all was over ! 
There lay the ashes of the sacrifice, and 
there the dry trenches, and there, too, knelt 



104 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

the awe-struck prophet. For a moment the 
silence of the grave hung over that solitary 
mountain, as the astonished multitude hid 
their faces in the earth, but the next mo- 
ment there arose a murmur, swelling gradu- 
ally louder and louder like the gathering 
roar of the sea, till, drowning every other 
sound, it rolled gloriously towards heaven — 
" The Lord he is the God; Jehovah he is the 
God ! v 'Twas done ; Truth had triumphed, 
and Israel was saved. 

But Elijah had not yet fulfilled his mis- 
sion. Turning sternly to the people, he bade 
them seize the prophets of Baal, and not let 
one of them escape. Prayers and entrea- 
ties were alike in vain. Though they crowd 
around the just now despised exile with 
tears, he has no pity for their fate. God and 
his country demand their death, and clown 
the mountain slope they are dragged by the 
indignant people, and there, by the margin of 
the brook Kishon, Elijah slays them, and the 
parched earth drinks up their blood. 



MOUNT CARMEL, 105 

Still the prophet's work is not done ; his 
country's enemies are destroyed, but her suf- 
ferings are not allayed. The crowd may re- 
turn home, but he, accompanied by his ser- 
vant, reascends Carmel. Standing on the 
now silent and solitary summit, in sight of the 
forsaken altars, he surveys for a moment the 
heavens above him, and the scene around him ; 
the sun is just bathing his burning forehead in 
the western wave ere he sinks to rest, and 
not a cloud is on the brazen sky. Casting 
himself upon the earth, and burying his face 
between his knees, again he prays. But 
where is the lofty bearing and stern aspect 
that just now awed the people, as he brought 
fire from heaven? Gone with the fulfil- 
ment of his task. He was then defending 
the God of Israel before scoffers and idola- 
ters, and his voice and aspect became his 
great mission. But now he is pleading for 
pardon for his suffering, sinful country ; he 
is entreating God to take his erring people 
once more to his arms, and pour upon them 



106 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

his blessings, and he is in the dust, as it be- 
comes such a mediator. For three years 
and a half not a drop of rain has fallen in 
Israel, and he now beseeches the Lord to 
water the earth and stay the famine and 
woe of the land. 

As he closed his prayer, he bade his ser- 
vant go and look towards the sea. He 
obeyed, and returned r saying, "I see noth- 
ing." Again the prophet poured his suppli- 
cations into the bosom of the God of Jacob, 
and again sent his servant to see if there 
were signs of rain, Again he returned as 
before. Still Elijah's faith did not falter. 
Again he prayed, and again sent his servant, 
till the seventh time. But the seventh time 
he came back, saying, " There is a little 
cloud rising out of the sea, like a man's 
hand." It was enough — Faith was satisfied, 
and Elijah arose and said to his servant, 
" Go up, say unto Ahab, Prepare thy chariot, 
and get thee down that the rain stop thee 
not." He heard the sound of the coming 



MOUNT CARMEL. 107 

storm before it arrived, aye, heard it long 
before, in the silence that followed the death 
of the prophets. And, lo ! what a sight ap- 
peared from Mount Carmel. Dark and an- 
gry clouds began to roll up the scorching 
heavens, — the sun went down in gloom, — 
the sea rose and shook itself to meet the 
coming tempest,- — fierce lightnings traversed 
the angry masses, as they pushed them- 
selves upward, — the thunder came muttering 
over the Mediterranean, as it rolled its vexed 
waters against the base of the mountain, — 
the sound of wind and rain was borne land- 
ward, and day was turned into sudden night, 
as the storm burst on the land of Israel. The 
thirsty and barren earth again smiled in ver- 
dure, and the long curse was removed. What 
a day of terror and of grace that had been to 
Israel, and as the prophet lay that night and 
listened to the descending rain, methinks his 
heart swelled with deeper gratitude than 
ever before to the God of his fathers. 

Mount Carmel still stands by the sea, and 



108 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

overlooks the same prospect, but the people 
of God are no longer there. Priest and 
prophet have disappeared, and there is no 
Elijah now to plead in their behalf. A 
Turkish mosque stands where arose the al- 
tar of God, and the Muezzin's voice rings 
where arose the prayer of the prophet. 



TXXI 




Lebanon is not an isolated peak, but a 
chain of mountains running through the 
south of Syria. There are two grand ridges 
rising above the rest, called Libanus or Leb- 
anon, and Antelibanus. The name signifies 
white mountain, and was given to this range 
from the white appearance its snow-capt 
summits present, and also perhaps from the 
limestone rocks that form it. The highest 
mountain in Syria, covered with snow both 
in summer and winter, Lebanon naturallv 
became a marked object to the Israelites in 
that warm climate. Still it has been conse- 
crated by no great event — no manifestation 

of God there has made its soil sacred to the 

10 



110 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

pilgrim, and it has not that claim to a place 
among the list of immortal mountains that 
others possess. It is, nevertheless, mention- 
ed so frequently in the Bible, and spoken of 
with such delight by prophets and kings, and, 
indeed, used so often by God himself to illus- 
trate his declarations to his people, that we 
have come to regard it as a holy mountain. 
Besides, the wood for Solomon's temple was 
cut from its slopes, and many of the sacred 
utensils were made from its fragrant cedars. 
Christ and the church are also likened to 
Lebanon, from their fruitfulness, and fra- 
grance, and glory. Even Jerusalem was 
sometimes called Lebanon, because the tem- 
ple and the houses were built almost en- 
tirely of its cedars. 

The Lebanon range furnished several 
peaks more or less elevated, and though the 
highest was usually white with snow, those 
more depressed were covered with vine- 
yards, while fountains leaped from the de- 
clivities and cool brooks wound through the 



MOUNT LEBANON. Ill 

fragrant fields that carpeted their sides — now 
glowing in the sunlight as they crept over 
the landscape, and now lost amid the green 
shrubbery that clustered on the shores, until 
they at length reached the plain and flowed 
away towards the streams of Abana, and 
Parphar, and Jordan. As the traveller ap- 
proached Lebanon, the cool breeze that fell 
from its summit made him forget the heat 
and toil of the way, and bless the heights 
that poured such freshness and health into 
his path. And as he lifted his eyes, 
the scene before him ravished his senses. 
All along the hill-sides, and over the rolling 
heights, spread away vineyards in every di- 
rection, while here and there, half hid amid 
the grapes, peeped forth the vine-dresser's 
cottage, and clustering trees, and babbling 
streams, and all the beauty and verdure of 
an eastern clime seemed to have been gath- 
ered there in their greatest richness and 
variety, while to finish the picture, endless 
forests of cedars waved along the top — a 



112 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

green crown to all the beauty below, making 
it indeed " the glory of Lebanon." Those 
lofty cedars caught the first sunlight in the 
land of Israel, and on their green tops the 
last beams of day lingered long after deep 
shadow filled the plains below. The fruitful 
fields and pure water, and spring-like verdure 
and coolness, made the mountain known even 
beyond the boundaries of Canaan. Moses 
had heard of it and longed to see it before 
he died. " I pray thee," said he, as he be- 
sought the Lord to let him enter Canaan, 
" let me go over and see the good land that 
is beyond Jordan, and that goodly mountain, 
Lebanon" 

One who has never travelled in a warm 
climate and a desert country, cannot appre- 
ciate the feelings of the inhabitants towards 
a forest-covered and fruitful mountain. By 
the coolness it imparts to the atmosphere, 
the pure water it sends to the vales, and the 
wood it furnishes to the builder, it is viewed 
one of the greatest blessings of the land. 



MOUNT LEBANON. 113 

Such was Lebanon when Jerusalem was 
in its glory. David sang of it — to have " his 
fruit shake like Lebanon" was to make one 
rich in blessings. To " grow like a cedar in 
Lebanon" was to flourish in unchecked 
vigor. Solomon, too, in less exalted strains, 
sung of the " wood of Lebanon," of its fra- 
grance and its streams. The countenance 
of u his beloved was like Lebanon," and 
" excellent as the cedars." Isaiah thought 
of it in his moments of highest rapture, and 
as he foresaw the increase of the church of 
God, he bursts forth, " the glory of Lebanon 
shall come unto thee, the fir-tree, and the 
pine-tree, and the box together, to beautify 
the place of my sanctuary, and I will make 
the place of my feet glorious." Jeremiah 
makes God compare the royal house of 
Judah to Lebanon, saying, " thou art Gilead 
unto me, and the head of Lebanon." Hosea 
in predicting the future . greatness of Israel 
exclaims, " thus saith the Lord, I will be as 

dew unto Israel ; he shall grow as the lily 
10* 



114 



SACRED MOUNTAIN) 



and cast forth his roots as Lebanon. His 
branches shall spread, and his beauty shall 
be as the olive tree, and his smell as Leb- 
anon. They that dwell under his shadow 
shall return, they shall revive as the corn 
and grow as the vine, the scent thereof shall 
be as the wine of Lebanon." Thus did the 
poet and the prophet make use of Lebanon 
to illustrate the truths of heaven, consecra- 
ting its name, if not itself, the world over. 

The forests of cedars that covered its 
heights must have been well nigh exhaust- 
less, for not only was the temple built from 
them, and most of Jerusalem itself, but it 
furnished all the timber for shipping to the 
Tyrians and Sidonians, then the greatest 
commercial nations on the globe. Here too, 
the Assyrians and Chaldeans, when they 
overran Syria, Canaan, and Phenicia, ob- 
tained their wood to carry on their sieges; 
and yet to expiate sin, " Lebanon is not suf- 
ficient to burn, nor the beasts thereof suffi- 
cient for a burnt-offering." 



MOUNT LEBANON. 115 

But the glory of Lebanon is gone — the ce- 
dars that covered it are fallen, and the na- 
tion that crowded at its base is peeled and 
scattered over the earth. The curse of the 
Holy One has fallen upon it. and the proph- 
ecy that " Lebanon should fall" and her 
" tall cedars be cut down," has been fulfilled. 
Of all her ancient groves, but few now re- 
main, and they are bereft of their former 
glory. Mere monuments of the past, just 
sufficient by contrast to make the desolation 
complete, they arrest the eye of the traveller 
only to move his heart with sorrow. 

Villages are still scattered over the heights, 
and the vine-dresser's voice is still heard as 
of old, but all else how changed ! Innumer- 
able convents dot the sides of the ancient 
pride of Israel, and the Maronite is the chief 
dweller there. The terraced vineyards are 
beautiful along the slopes, and the great 
" cedar grove" belting the highest summit 
of the mountain, together with the ruins of 
ancient temples slowly crumbling back to 



116 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

dust, are worthy of the pilgrim's toil. But, 
alas, the ancient shrine is shattered, and Ma- 
hometan rites have taken the place of the 
Hebrew's prayer and sacrifice. 

From the sea, Lebanon is still glorious to 
behold. Rising ten thousand feet in the 
heavens, it rolls its white and ancient peaks 
along the sky, as if it constituted the outer 
wall of the earth. Running from the north- 
east to the south-west, it stretches from op- 
posite Damascus to the plains of Esdraelon, 
into which it seems to sink. The great land- 
mark of that country, it stands unwasted by 
the ravages of time, a silent witness of the 
truth of revelation, and the fulfilment of 
prophecy. Nations may be born and die, at 
its base cities sink and rise, and the records 
of human history fail ; yet so long as the 
Bible remains, Lebanon shall stand as one 
of its witnesses — a perpetual memento of de- 
parted glory. Around its hallowed form 
rests an atmosphere of beauty, and to the 



MOUNT LEBANON. 117 

end of time the traveller, pausing at its base, 
shall sigh as he remembers how the poets 
of Israel struck their lyres, and the prophets 
of God breathed fortJi their numbers in its 
praise. 




Perhaps there is no name in human his- 
tory the mention of which awakens so many 
thrilling associations as that of Zion. It not 
only represents the ancient Jewish church, 
and all that was dear and holy in her, but it 
is applied to the Christian church at the pres- 
ent day. Confined to no sect and no clime, 
and no language ; it embraces in its catholici- 
ty all who love God, binding them in one en- 
dearing epithet together to the end of time. 
" Zion P there is something sad as well as 
delightful in the word, and the heart pauses 
over it with a sigh half of regret and half of 
affection, for the past, while its mournful his- 
tory, rises to view. Zion has had tears as 



♦ 5 



MOUNT ZION. 119 

well as raptures, suffering as well as joy, and 
her note of lamentation has arisen as often 
as her song of thanksgiving. He who has 
kept a record of her tears knows full well 
her conflicts and her trials, and that from the 
time of her toilsome flight through the wil- 
derness and desert to the land of Canaan till 
now, she has been a stranger and sojourner 
in a world of wicked men. Now scattered 
to the four winds of heaven, her children 
sad captives and her home the prey of the 
spoiler, she has wept unavailing tears at the 
feet of her spoilers ; and now rent by inward 
dissensions and secret foes, she has commit- 
ted suicide around her own altars. But still 
her very dust has been precious in the eyes 
of him who hath formed her for himself ; and 
out of the most hopeless bondage, from deep- 
est ruin, he has again called her, and adorned 
her with robes of beauty, and put a crown 
of glory on her head, and made her enemies 
to flee before her. Amid the amazement of 
those who believed her ruin complete, and 



120 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

the astonishment of her friends, a voice has 
been heard to say, 

" Zion still is well beloved." 

The literal Mount Zion was one of the 
hills on which Jerusalem was built. It stood 
near Mount Moriah, where Abraham offered 
up Isaac to the Lord, and witnessed that 
greatest triumph of human faith ; and centu- 
ries afterwards, when the temple covered 
the summit of the former, it formed the heart 
and strength of the city. Situated at the 
southern extremity, it rose above every other 
part of Jerusalem, and came in time to stand 
for the city itself. At first it seems strange 
that Zion should have become a word filled 
with such endearing associations to the Jews. 
They could never let it go from them 
when speaking of their city. If her strength 
as a fortress was spoken of, the language 
was, " Walk about Zion, and go round about 
her ; tell the towers thereof : mark ye well 
her bulwarks, and consider her palaces ;"— 



MOUNT ZION. 121 

if her elevation, it was, " The holy hill of 
Zion. v God's affection for his people was 
expressed by his love for Zion, u He loveth 
the gates of Zion," " The Lord hath chosen 
Zion." As if this were not enough, they and 
their city together are called " Daughter of 
Zion." Occupied by the son of Jesse, it be- 
came the u City of David/ 7 the representa- 
tive of all that was dear and cherished in Is : 
rael. Hence it was called also the " Holy 
hill of Zion, whither the tribes went up, the 
tribes of the Lord unto the testimony of Is- 
rael." It was u God's hill, in which it de- 
lighted him to dwell." Thus every thing 
conspired to render "Zion" the spell-word 
of the nation, and on its summit the heart 
of Israel seemed to lie and throb. While it 
remained unshaken by its foes, hope and joy 
reigned in every bosom, but when the feet 
of the spoiler trod its sacred top, and his 
conquering troops swept over it, a cry of de- 
spair went up around its towers. 

How often the name is on the lips of Da- 
11 



122 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

vid ; and every string of his harp seems 
tuned to utter " Zion" In a burst of lofty 
enthusiasm, carried away by a sudden trans- 
port as he contemplates its glory and 
strength, he exclaims, " Beautiful for situa- 
tion^ the joy of the ivhole earth is Mount Zion ; 
God is knoivn in her palaces for a refuge. 
Let Mount Zion rejoice, let the daughters of 
Judah be glad, for this God is our God for 
ever and ever" 

But perhaps there is no exhibition of the 
love the Hebrews bore for it so touching as 
the reply they made when captives in Baby- 
lon, to those who required of them a song. 
"The joy of the earth" had been ravaged, 
and that " holy hill,' 7 so " beautiful for situ- 
ation" laid desolate by the enemy. Its pal- 
aces were broken down, and a heap of ruins 
alone marked the spot where the " City of 
David" arose. On its top Israel's thousands 
had stood and battled for its safety. Their 
fearful war-cry had rung along its streets, 
as the banner of David rose and fell in the 



MOUNT ZION. 123 

doubtful fight, till borne back and over- 
whelmed, leaving thousands of corpses as 
bloody testimonials of the desperate conflict, 
they at length yielded to numbers and Jeru- 
salem fell. A multitude of captives graced 
the triumphal entrance of the victors into 
Babylon, and the city shook to the shouts of 
welcome. But the pageantry was soon for- 
gotten, and the prisoners became objects only 
of idle curiosity as they moved sadly along 
the streets, or sat in groups under the trees of 
the public walks. Methinks I see that little 
band, as strolling one day through the city 
they sat down by its fountains and listened 
to the murmur of the streams that swept by. 
The scene was beautiful, and it reminded 
them of the hill of Zion where they had so 
often strayed — the home of their hearts — 
never to be seen again. As they thus sat 
and conversed in their native tongue, filled 
with sad remembrances, — their neglected 
harps hanging on the willows — the heartless 
and curious passed by, and stopped to view 



124 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

their strange apparel and listen to their still 
stranger language. As they saw their harps 
hanging beside them they asked for a native 
song. The hearts of the captives were sad 
enough before, but this sudden recalling of 
the joys of the past was too much for their 
overburdened feelings, and a burst of tears 
was the only answer, as they shook their 
heads in mournful silence. 

That day of bitterness they could never 
forget, and whenever memory recalled it the 
heart seemed to live over again its hour of 
woe, and they said, " By the rivers of Baby- 
lon there we sat down, yea, we wept when 
we remembered Zion. We hung our harps 
upon the willows in the midst thereof. For 
there they that carried us away captive re- 
quired of us a song, and they that wasted us 
asked for mirth, saying, Sing us one of the 
songs of Zion. How shall we sing the 
Lord's song in a strange land. If I forget 
thee, Oh Jerusalem, let my right hand forget 
her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let 






MOUNT ZION. 125 

my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if 
I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy." 
They did not forget her, and the city of Da- 
vid once more rose over the hill of Zion, and 
the banner of Israel again floated from its 
heights, for God had remembered her tears 
and forgiven her sins. 

Years passed, and though visited by mis- 
fortune and ruin for its departures from the 
Lord, Zion still arose in its glory and strength. 
But at length its long line of kings disappear- 
ed — the Roman occupied it, and the eagles of 
Caesar took the place of the banner of David. 
Still Mount Zion stood, beautiful as of old, 
the pride of the conqueror ; but its cup of in- 
iquity was fast filling to the brim. Shiloh 
had come, and the rejected Saviour, as he 
overlooked the city, wept in view of its ap- 
proaching doom. There was Mount Moriah 
lifting the temple on high, whose glorious 
form dazzled the eyes of the beholder as the 
sunbeams fell upon it; and there, higher 

yet, Mount Zion, with its countless palaces 
11* 



126 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

and domes and towers of strength, before 
him. His heart yearned over the " glory of 
the earth," and the daughter of Zion looked 
beautiful upon her throne of hills ; and as he 
thought of the past — of her toils and suffer- 
ings — of her former faithfulness, and all that 
God had done for her, words of deepest love 
were heard to fall from his lips. But amid 
them was also heard the startling language, 
" Behold your house is left unto you desolate. 11 
The last drop in the cup of crime, the 
crowning guilt at length came, — Zion cru- 
cified her Saviour. Then the long delayed 
curse fell, and Roman legions girdled the 
city. Mount Zion became the scene of 
the severest strife that had ever wasted it, 
and of the keenest sufferings its crimes had 
ever brought upon it. Although a troop of 
flaming seraphs had stooped on the temple, 
and with the words u let us depart/' wheeled 
away to heaven again, and chariots of fire 
had been seen jostling against each other in 
the evening heavens, and a flaming sword 



MOUNT ZION. 127 

been suspended over the city, and the woe 
of the denouncing prophet heard along its 
walls, still the doomed inhabitants believed 
them not as omens of evil. Under their an- 
cient banner they once more rallied for the 
conflict, and for a long time Mount Zion 
stood like a tower of strength amid her foes. 
Beating back the tide of battle from her 
sides, she proved worthy of her olden re- 
nown. Standing shoulder to shoulder on 
that glorious hill-top, the tens of thousands 
of Israel's warriors presented an unbroken 
front to the foe, and their shout went up 
as strong and terrible as when Joshua led 
them on to victory. " Zion shall be ploughed 
as ajieldj and Jerusalem shall become heaps!" 
Impossible ! " Walk about Zion and go 
round about her," " mark her bulwarks, tell 
the towers thereof, consider her palaces," 
number if ye can her warriors, proud of 
their strength and confident in their re- 
sources. But the decree has gone forth, 
" Zion shall be ploughed as afield" Famine 



128 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

is stronger than the arm of the warrior, and 
inward dissensions more wasting than the 
sword of the enemy. The banner of Israel 
still floats in the breeze, but it waves over 
the blood of her children. Pestilence has 
entered the gates, and the groans of the dy- 
ing rise from every house. Bloated forms 
are seen staggering round the empty market 
places, chewing wisps of straw and leather 
for food, and falling dead in their footsteps. 
Despairing eyes, and wan and haggard faces 
stare from every window, and corpses are 
hurried in crowds over the walls, till even the 
enemy turn away from the fetid air. The 
strong fall on the weak and tear them asun- 
der, to get the morsel they have swallowed, 
and mothers devour even their own offspring. 
The thunder of engines is heard against the 
walls without, and the clash of steel mingles 
in the wild confusion. Yet even amid this 
terror and woe, Zion fights against herself 
and strives to swell the slaughter of her own 
children. At length the last day and last 



MOUNT ZION. 129 

hour come — the temple is on fire and blazes 
balefully up from Mount Moriah — the eagles 
of Caesar flash along the crowded streets, and 
the shrieks of the flying and the shout of the 
struggling, mingling with the crackling of 
the flames, rise over the city. Zion at 
length yields, the last strong-hold is taken, 
and the spoiler roams unchecked through 
the streets. " Jerusalem is in heaps/' de- 
struction has done her worst, and silence 
reigns amid the desolation. 

Their task at length accomplished, the 
victors take up their line of march, followed 
by the long train of captives, and depart. 
As they ascend the last slope that overlooks 
Jerusalem, that mournful band pause and 
turn to give a farewell look to Mount Zion. 
As they behold it strewed with burning ruins 
and think of their desolate homes never to 
be rebuilt or revisited, and see but a cloud 
of smoke where the glorious temple stood, 
tears of unavailing sorrow stream from their 



130 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

eyes, and a " note of lamentation swells upon 
the breeze." 

Years have passed by, and the plough- 
share is driven over the top of Zion. Where 
its towers and palaces stood grain waves in 
the passing wind, or ruins overlaying each 
other attest the truth of the Word of God. 
The Arab spurs his steed along the forsa- 
ken streets, or scornfully stands on Mount 
Zion and surveys the forsaken city of God. 

But the promise is still sure — Zion is not 
forgotten, nor is her glory gone. The church 
of God still lives and flourishes in more than 
her ancient beauty. Kingdoms may rise and 
fall like waves along the sea, and the strong- 
est monuments of human skill crumble to 
dust, and the earth itself change places, Zion 
is still secure. No foe can finally prevail 
against her, nor even time, under whose cor- 
roding tooth all things disappear, touch her 
life. She has brighter palaces than those 
which adorned Jerusalem, and firmer towers 
and bulwarks than those built by human 



MOUNT ZION. 131 

hands. Unseen warriors hover around her 
battlements — and the banner over her shall 
float triumphantly amid the chaos of a crum- 
bling world. There is also a Mount Zion in 
heaven, covered with harpers, and the re- 
deemed in their white vestures are there, and 
the song they sing has no dying cadence. Its 
top is crowned with a more glorious temple 
that ever adorned an earthly city, and there 
nothing that " can hurt or make afraid" shall 
ever enter. 




What strange contrasts this earth of ours 
presents. It seems to be the middle spot be- 
tween heaven and hell, and to partake of the 
character of both. Beings from both are 
found moving over its surface, and scenes 
from both are constantly occurring upon it. 
The glory from one and the midnight shades 
from the other meet along its bosom ? and the 
song of angels and the shriek of fiends go up 
from the same spot. Noonday and midnight 
are not more opposite than the scenes that 
are constantly passing before our eyes. The 
temple of God stands beside a brothel, and 
the place of prayer is separated only by a 
single dwelling from the " hell" of the gam- 



MOUNT TABOR. 133 

bier. Truth and falsehood walk side by side 
through our streets, and vice and virtue meet 
and pass every hour of the day. The hut of 
the starving stands in the shadow of the pal- 
ace of the wealthy, and the carriage of Dives 
every day throws the dust of its glittering 
wheels over the tattered garments of Lazarus. 
Health and sickness lie down in the same 
apartment; joy and agony look out of the 
same window ; and hope and despair dwell 
under the same roof. The cry of the new- 
born infant and the groan of the dyiug rise 
together from the same dwelling ; the funeral 
procession treads close on the heels of the 
bridal party, and the tones of the lute and 
viol have scarcely died away before the re- 
quiem for the dead comes swelling after. 
Oh ! the beautiful and deformed, the pure 
and corrupt, joy and sorrow, ecstacies and 
agonies, life and death, are strangely blent 
on this restless planet of ours. 

But the past and future present as strange 

contrasts as the present. What different 
12 



134 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

events have transpired on the same spot. 
Where the smoke of the Indian's wigwam 
arose, and the stealthy tread of the wolf and 
panther was heard over the autumn leaves 
at twilight, the population of New York now 
surges along. Where once Tyre the queen 
of the sea stood, fishermen are spreading 
their nets on the desolate rocks, and the 
bright waves are rolling over its marble col- 
umns. In the empty apartments of Edom 
the fox makes his den, and the dust of the 
desert is sifting over the forsaken ruins of 
Palmyra. The owl hoots in the ancient halls 
of kings, and the wind of the summer night 
makes sad music through the rents of once 
gorgeous palaces. The Arab spurs his steed 
along the streets of ancient Jerusalem, or 
scornfully stands and curls his lip at the 
pilgrim pressing wearily to the sepulchre 
of the Saviour. The Muezzin's voice rings 
over the bones of the prophets, and the 
desert wind heaps the dust above the foun- 
dations of the seven churches of Asia. Oh, 



MOUNT TABOR. 135 

how good and evil, light and darkness, chase 
each other over the world. 

Forty-seven years ago, a form was seen 
standing on Mount Tabor with which the 
world has since become familiar. It was a 
bright spring morning, and as he sat on his 
steed in the clear sunlight, his eye rested on 
a scene in the vale below, which was sub- 
lime and appalling enough to quicken the 
pulsations of the calmest heart. That form 
was Napoleon Bonaparte, and the scene be- 
fore him the fierce and terrible " Battle op 
Mount Tabor." From Nazareth, where the 
Saviour once trod, Kleber had marched with 
three thousand French soldiers forth into the 
plain, when lo, at the foot of Mount Tabor 
he saw the whole Turkish army drawn up 
in order of battle. Fifteen thousand infantry 
and twelve thousand splendid cavalry moved 
down in majestic strength on this band of 
three thousand French. Kleber had scarcely 
time to throw his handful of men into squares, 
with the cannon at the angles, before those 



136 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

twelve thousand horse, making the earth 
smoke and thunder as they came, burst in a 
headlong gallop upon them. But round those 
steady squares rolled a fierce devouring fire, 
emptying the saddles of those wild horsemen 
with frightful rapidity, and strewing the earth 
with the bodies of riders and steeds together 
Again and again did those splendid squad- 
rons wheel, re-form and charge with deafen- 
ing shouts, while their uplifted and flashing 
scimitars gleamed like a forest of steel through 
the smoke of battle : but that same wasting 
fire received them ; till those squares seemed 
bound by a girdle of flame, so rapid and con- 
stant were the discharges. Before their cer- 
tain and deadly aim, as they stood fighting 
for existence, the charging squadrons fell so 
fast that a rampart of dead bodies was soon 
formed around them. Behind this embank- 
ment of dead men and horses this band of 
warriors stood and fought for six dreadful 
hours, and was still steadily thinning the 
ranks of the enemy, when Napoleon de- 



MOUNT TABOR. 137 

bouched with a single division on Mount 
Tabor, and turned his eye below. What a 
scene met his gaze. The whole plain was 
filled with marching columns and charging 
squadrons of wildly galloping steeds, while 
the thunder of cannon and fierce rattle of 
musketry, amid which now and then was 
heard the blast of thousands of trumpets, and 
strains of martial music, filled all the air. 
The smoke of battle was rolling furiously 
over the hosts, and all was confusion and 
chaos in his sight. Amid the twenty-seven 
thousand Turks that crowded the plain and 
enveloped their enemy like a cloud, and amid 
the incessant discharge of artillery and mus- 
ketry, Napoleon could tell where his own 
brave troops were struggling, only by the 
steady simultaneous vollies which showed 
how discipline was contending with the 
wild valor of overpowering numbers. The 
constant flashes from behind that rampart of 
dead bodies were like spots of flame on the 

tumultuous and chaotic field. Napoleon de- 
12* 



138 SACRED MOUNTAINS, 

scended from Mount Tabor with his little 
band, while a single twelve-pounder, fired 
from the heights, told the wearied Kleber 
that he was rushing to the rescue. Then for 
the first time he took the offensive, and 
pouring his enthusiastic followers on the 
foe, carried death and terror over the field. 
Thrown into confusion, and trampled under 
foot, that mighty army rolled turbulently 
back towards the Jordan, where Murat was 
anxiously waiting to mingle in the fight. 
Dashing with his cavalry among the disor- 
dered ranks, he sabred them down without 
mercy, and raged like a lion amid the prey. 
This chivalric and romantic warrior declared 
that the remembrance of the scenes that once 
transpired on Mount Tabor, and on these 
thrice consecrated spots, came to him in the 
hottest of the fight, and nerved him with ten- 
fold courage. 

As the sun went down over the plains of 
Palestine, and twilight shed its dim ray over 
the rent and trodden and dead-covered field, 



MOUNT TABOR. 139 

a sulphurous cloud hung around the summit 
of Mount Tabor, The smoke of battle had 
settled there where once the cloud of glory 
rested, while groans and shrieks and cries 
rent the air. Nazareth, Jordan and Mount 
Tabor ! what spots for battle-fields ! 

Roll back twenty centuries and again 
view that hill. The day is bright and beau- 
tiful as then, and the same rich oriental land- 
scape is smiling in the same sun. There is 
Nazareth with its busy population, — the 
same Nazareth from which Kleber marched 
his army: and there is Jordan rolling its 
bright waters along, — the same Jordan along 
whose banks charged the glittering squad- 
rons of Murat's cavalry : and there is Mount 
Tabor, — the same on which Bonaparte stood 
with his cannon : and the same beautiful 
plain where rolled the smoke of battle, and 
struggled thirty thousand men in mortal 
combat. But how different is the scene that 
is passing there. The Son of God stands on 
that height and casts his eye over the quiet 



140 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

valley through which Jordan winds its silver 
current. Three friends are beside Him : 
they have walked together up the toilsome 
way 7 and now the four stand, mere specks 
on the distant summit. Far away to the 
northwest shines the blue Mediterranean — 
all around is the great plain of Esdraelon and 
Galilee — eastward, the lake of Tiberias dots 
the landscape, while Mount Carmel lifts its 
naked summit in the distance. But the glo- 
rious landscape at their feet is forgotten in a 
sublimer scene that is passing before them. 
The son of Mary — the carpenter of Nazareth 
— the wanderer with whom they have ate 
and drank and travelled on foot many a 
weary league, in all the intimacy of compan- 
ions and friends, begins to change before 
their eyes. Over his soiled and coarse gar- 
ments is spreading a strange light, steadily 
brightening into in tenser beauty, till that 
form glows with such splendor that it seems 
to waver to and fro and dissolve in the still 
radiance. 



MOUNT TABOR. 141 

The three astonished friends gaze on it in 
speechless admiration, then turn to that fa- 
miliar face. But lo, a greater change has 
passed over it. The man has put on the 
God, and that sad and solemn countenance 
which has been so often seen stooping over 
the couch of the dying, and entering the door 
of the hut of poverty, and passing through the 
streets of Jerusalem, and pausing by the 
weary wayside — aye, bedewed with the tears 
of pity, — now burns like the sun in his mid- 
day splendor. Meekness has given way to 
majesty — sadness to dazzling glory — the look 
of pity to the grandeur of a God. The still 
radiance of heaven sits on that serene brow, 
and all around that divine form flows an at- 
mosphere of strange and wondrous beauty. 
Heaven has poured its brightness over that 
consecrated spot, and on the beams of light 
which glitter there, Moses and Elias have de- 
scended ; and, wrapped in the same shining 
vestments, stand beside him. Wonder fol- 
lows wonder, for those three glittering forms 



142 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

are talking with each other, and amid the 
thrilling accents are heard the words " Mount 
Olivet," u Calvary/ 7 the agony and the death 
of the crucifixion. Peter, awe-struck and 
overcome, feeling also the influence of that 
heavenly atmosphere, and carried away by a 
sudden impulse, says to Jesus, in low and 
tremulous accents : " It is good to be here ; let 
us build three tabernacles ; one for thee, one 
for Moses, and one for Elias." Confused by 
the scene and dazzled by the splendor, he was 
ignorant what he was saying. He knew not 
the meaning of this sudden appearance, but 
he knew that heaven was near and God re- 
vealing himself, and he felt that some sacred 
ceremony would be appropriate to the scene ; 
and while his bewildered gaze was fixed on 
the three forms before him, his unconscious 
lips murmured forth the feelings of his heart. 
No wonder a sudden fear came over him, 
that paralyzed his tongue and crushed him 
to the earth, when in the midst of his speech 
he saw a cloud fall like a falling star from 



MOUNT TABOR. 143 

heaven, and, bright and dazzling, balance it- 
self over those forms of light. Perhaps his 
indiscreet interruption had brought this new 
messenger down, and from its bosom the 
thunder and flame of Sinai w r ere to burst ; 
and he fell on his face in silent terror. But 
that cloud was only a canopy for its God, 
and from its bright foldings came a voice, 
saying, u This is my beloved Son, in whom 
I am well pleased, hear ye Him." 

How long the vision lasted we cannot tell, 
but all that night did Jesus, with his friends, 
stay on that lonely mountain. Of the con- 
versation that passed between them there 
we know nothing: but little sleep, we im- 
agine, visited their eyes that night ; and as 
they sat on the high summit and watched 
the stars, as they rose one after another 
above the horizon, and gazed on the moon 
as she poured her light over the dim and 
darkened landscape, words were spoken that 
seemed born of heaven and truths never to 



144 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

be forgotten were uttered in the ears of the 
subdued and reverent disciples. 

Oh, how different is heaven and earth ! 
Can there be a stranger contrast than the 
Battle and Transfiguration of Mount Tabor ? 
One shudders to think of Bonaparte and the 
Son of God on the same mountain : one with 
his wasting cannon by his side, and the other 
with Moses and Elias just from heaven. 

But no after desecration can destroy the 
first consecration of Mount Tabor ; for, bap- 
tized with the glory of heaven, and honored 
with the wondrous scene of the Transfigura- 
tion, it stands a Sacred Mountain on the 
earth. 







{COUNT- ^OlM-VET 



The Mount of Olives stands just without 
Jerusalem, over the little stream of Kedron. 
Its height and magnitude would not entitle 
it to the name of mountain as we use the 
word ; but being called such in the Bible, 
it belongs among the "Sacred Mountains." 
In moral grandeur it towers above all the 
preceding summits that rise along the hori- 
zon of history. 

It is difficult to recall any scene vividly 

that has been so often described and so long 

familiar to us as that which transpired on 

the Mount of Olives. The mind is prepared 

for every event in it, and hence cannot be 

taken by surprise or held in suspense. But 
13 



146 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

there are moments when the heart fcrgets 
all that it has ever heard, and seems for the 
first time to witness that night of suffering. 
The indifference which long familiarity has 
produced, disappears before rising emotion, 
and that lonely hill-top — that midnight pray- 
er — that piercing agony, with its bloody tes- 
timonial, and the rude shock of Roman sol- 
diers, all, all, swim before the swimming eye, 
with the freshness of first sight, till the heart 
thrills and throbs at the solemn spectacle. 

But morally grand and moving as that 
scene was, it caused but little talk in Jeru- 
salem. The streets of the proud city were 
filled with careless pjomenaders — parties of 
pleasure were assembled — dissipation and 
revelry were on every side ; and the quiet of 
the staid citizen's home was not interrupted 
by the tragedy Mount Olivet was to witness. 
Every thing moved on in its accustomed 
way, when, in an obscure street, in the up- 
per chamber of an inferior dwelling, a group 
of coarse-clad men sat down to a table 



MOUNT OF OLIVES. 147 

spread with the plainest fare. The rattling 
of carriages and the hum of the mighty city 
were unheeded by them, and you could see 
by their countenances that some calamity 
was impending over their heads. Few 
words were spoken, and those few were 
uttered in a subdued and saddened tone, that 
always bespeaks grief at the heart. At the 
head of the table sat one whose noble coun- 
tenance proclaimed him chief there. He had 
won the love of those simple-hearted men, 
and now they sat grouped around him, ex- 
pecting some sad news ; but oh, they were 
unprepared for the startling declaration that 
fell from those lips : " This night one of you 
shall betray me." "Is it I?" " Is it IT' ran 
from lip to lip in breathless consternation. 
At length all eyes centred on Judas, and he 
rose and went away. 

I will not speak of the conversation that 
followed ; but amid words that thrilled every 
heart was heard such language as, " This is 
my blood shed for many ;" and as the bread 



148 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

crumbled beneath his fingers, " This is my 
body ;" — strange language, and awakening 
strange sensations in the bewildered listen- 
ers ; and a mournful sadness rested on every 
face, as through the silent chamber rung 
those tones of tenderness. 

Gradually the great city sunk to rest, the 
noise of wheels grew less and less, and only 
now and then a solitary carriage went rum- 
bling by. It was midnight, and from that 
solitary chamber arose the voice of singing. 
The victim at the altar — the sufferer by the 
wheel, struck up a hymn at the moment of 
sacrifice. Was there ever before a hymn 
sung under such circumstances ? 

Through the darkened streets those twelve 
forms are slowly passing towards the walls 
of the city, cared for and noticed only by the 
police, whom the betrayer has put upon the 
track. Kedron is passed, and they reach the 
garden of Gethsemane. " Sit you here," says 
Jesus, u while I go and pray yonder," and 
taking with him only Peter and James and 



MOUNT OP OLIVES. 149 

John, he ascended the slope of Olivet. As 
they paused on the solitary summit, the hu- 
man heart threw off the restraint it had put 
on its feelings, and burst forth in tones of in- 
describable mournfulness, " My soul is exceed- 
ing sorroioful, even unto death ; stay here and 
icatch with me" Every prop seemed falling 
beside him, and in the deepening gloom and 
dread that surrounded him, he reached out 
for sympathy and aid. Then, as if recollect- 
ing himself and the task before him, he 
broke away even from those three remain- 
ing friends, and they saw with speechless 
grief and amazement his form disappear in 
the darkness. 

Jerusalem is sunk in slumber and secu- 
rity, and naught but the tread of the watch- 
man is heard along the streets. The disci- 
ples in the garden of Gethsemane are quietly 
sleeping below, and all is still and solemn, 
as night ever is when left alone ; and the 
large luminous stars are shining down in 
their wonted beauty. Kedron goes murmur- 

13* 



150 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

ing by as if singing in its dreams, and the I 
olive trees rustle to the passing breeze as if j 
their leaves were but half stirred from their 
slumbers. It is night, most quiet night, with 
all its accompaniments of beauty and of 
loveliness. * 

But hark, from the summit of Mount Oli- 
vet, rises a low and plaintive moan ; and 
there stretched on the dewy grass, his face 
to the earth, are seen the dim outlines of a 
human form. All is still around, save that 
moan which rises in a deep perpetual mono- 
tone, like the last cry of helpless suffering. 
But listen again ; a prayer is ascending the 
heavens : and what a prayer, and in what 
tones it is uttered. Such accents never be- 
fore rung on the ear of God or man : " Father \ 
if it be possible, let this cup pass from me" 
It is still again, and nature herself seems to 
gasp for breath ; and lo, there arises another 
voice in tones of resignation sweeter than 
angels use, "Father, not my will but thine be 
done." Oh, what inexpressible tenderness 



MOUNT OF OLIVES. 151 

is poured in that word "Father" — the very- 
passion and soul of love is breathed forth 
in it. Wearied and worn, that tottering 
form slowly rises and moves through the 
gloom towards where the three friends 
are sleeping— going in its humanity after 
sympathy, i The pressure is too great — the 
sorrow and despair too deep, and the hu- \ 
man heart reaches out imploringly for help. 
a What, could you not watch icith me one 
hour?" falls on their slumberous ears, and 
the lonely sufferer turns again to his solitude 
and his woe. Prone on the earth he again 
casts himself, and the wave comes back 
with a heavier and a darker flow. Bursting 
sighs, and groans that rend the heart again 
startle the midnight air, and down those pale 
cheeks the blood is trickling, and the dewy 
grass turns red, as if a wounded man were 
weltering there. The life-stream is flowing 
from the crushed heart, as it trembles and 
wrestles in the grasp of its mighty agony. 
Woe and darkness, and horror inconceivable, 



152 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

indescribable, gather in fearful companion-) 
ship around that prostrate form, but still the 
prayer goes up, and still the voice of resigna- 
tion hovers amid the tumult like the breath 
of God over a world in chaos, — ruling the 
wild scene. 

Oh, is this the form that a few days ago 
stood on this same height and looked off on 
Jerusalem sleeping below, while the sunlight 
around, and the fragrant breezes loaded with 
the scent of the pomegranate and vine, vis- 
ited in kindness his brow, and the garden 
smiled up in his face from beneath, and 
garments were strewed before him, and 
branches of palm waved around him, and 
" Hosanna to the Highest !" shook the hill? 
Alas, what a change has passed over him ! 
No hosannas greet his ear, but deep within 
his soul are voices of terror and dismay, stri- 
ving, but in vain, to shake his constancy or 
darken his faith. 

Christ arose from the earth he had mois- 
tened with his blood, and stood beneath the 



MOUNT OF OLIVES. 153 

stars, that still shone on as tranquilly as if 
all unconscious of the scene that had tran- 
spired in their light. Kedron still murmured 
by, and the night air stirred the leaves as 
gently as ever. All was sweet and tranquil, 
when torches were seen dancing to and fro 
along the slopes of the hill, and the heavy 
tread of approaching feet was heard, and 
rough voices broke the holy quiet of nature ; 
and soon Roman helmets flashed through 
the gloom, and swords glittered in the torch- 
light, and a band of soldiers drew up before 
the " man of sorrows." " Whom seek ye V fell 
in languid and quiet accents on their ears. 
"Jesus of Nazareth," was the short and 
stern reply. "/ am he? answered them, 
but in tones that had more of God than man 
in them, for swords and torches sunk to the 
earth at their utterance, and those mailed 
warriors staggered back and fell like dead 
men. It was not the haggard and blood- 
streaked face over which the torches shed 
their sudden glare, that unnerved them so ; 



154 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

for they were used to scenes of violence and 
of murder — it was the God speaking from 
the man. 

" But so it must be, that the Scriptures 
may be fulfilled f and the betrayer and his 
accomplices take up their fallen weapons, 
and freed from the sudden awe that over- 
whelmed them, close threateningly around 
their unresisting victim. With their pris- 
oner they clatter down the declivity of Oli- 
vet, cross Kedron, and soon their heavy tread 
resounds along the streets of Jerusalem as 
they hurry on to the house of the high 
priest. Why speak of the painful desertion 
of his followers, sufficient of itself to break 
a noble heart — of the rude treatment of the 
brutal officers that guarded him, or of the 
mockery of a trial, destitute even of the 
forms of justice! Why speak of Peter's 
treachery, rebuked only by a sorrowful 
look ; or of all or any of the shameful pro- 
ceedings that made this last most terrible 



MOUNT OF OLIVES. 155 

night of the Son of God a fit prelude to the 
crowning act of human wickedness ! 

The night wanes away — the morning, 
the last dreadful morning approaches, and 
the scenes of Mount Olivet are to disappear 
before the fearful tragedy of Mount Cal- 
vary. 




Mount Calvary is lord of the " Sacred 
Mountains/ 7 and by its baptism of blood and 
agony, its moral grandeur, and the intense 
glory that beams from its summit, is worthy 
to crown the immortal group. Its moral 
height no man can measure, for though its 
base is on the earth, its top is lost in the 
heaven of heavens. The angels hover around 
the dazzling summit, struggling in vain to 
scale its highest point, which has never yet 
been fanned by even an immortal wing. 
The Divine eye alone embraces its length 
and breadth, and depth and heighth. 

What associations cluster around Mount 
Calvary ! what mysteries hover there, and 



MOUNT CALVARY. 157 

what revelations it makes to the awe-struck 
beholder! Mount Calvary! at the mention 
of that name the universe thrills with a new 
emotion, and heaven trembles with a new 
anthem, in which pity and exultation mingle 
in strange, yet sweet accord. Glory and 
brightness are on that hill-top, and shall be 
to the end of time ; but there was a morning 
when gloom and terror crowned it, and hea- 
ven itself, all but God the Father, gazed on 
it in wonder, if not in consternation. 

The strange and painful scene in the gar- 
den had passed by, and the shameful exami- 
nation in the lighted chamber of the high 
priest was over. Insult and contempt had 
marked every step of the villainous proceed- 
ings, till at length one wretch more impious 
than the rest advanced and struck Christ in 
the face. The cheek reddened to the blow, 
but not with anger or shame ; yet methinks 
as the sound of that buffet was borne on 
high, there was a rustling of myriad wings, 

as angels started from their listening atti- 
14 



158 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

tude, waiting the thunderbolt that should 
follow. 

This too passed by, and also the second 
mockery of a trial in Pilate's hall ; and the 
uprisen sun was flashing down on the tow- 
ers and domes of Jerusalem, and the vast 
population was again abroad, thronging every 
street. But a few took any interest in the 
fate of Jesus of Nazareth, yet those few 
were filled with the bitterest hate. The vic- 
tim was now in their power — given up to 
their will, and they commenced the bloody 
scene they were to enact, by spitting in his 
face and striking his unresisting cheek with 
blow after blow. To give greater force to 
their insults, they put a crown on his head, 
made of thorns, and mocked him with sar- 
castic words, and strove with fiendish skill 
to irritate him into some sign of anger or 
complaint. After having exhausted their in- 
genuity, and failing in every endeavor, they 
" led him away to be crucified." 

It was a bright and beautiful day when a 



MOUNT CALVARY. 159 

train passed out of the gates of Jerusalem, 
and began to ascend the slope of Mount Cal- 
vary. The people paused a moment as the 
procession moved boisterously along the 
streets, then making some careless remark 
about the fate of fanatics, passed on. The 
low and base of both sexes turned and joined 
the company, and with jokes and laughter 
hurried on to the scene of excitement. Oh, 
how unsympathizing did nature seem : the 
vine and fig-tree shed their fragrance around 
— the breeze whispered nothing but love and 
tranquillity, while the blue and bending arch 
above seemed delighted with the beauty 
and verdure the spread-out earth presented. 
The birds were singing in the gardens, all 
reckless of the roar and jar of the great city 
near, as Jesus passed by in the midst of the 
mob. J His face was colorless as marble, save 
where the blood trickled down his cheeks 
from the thorns that pierced his temples ; 
his knees trembled beneath him ; though not 
with fear, and he staggered on under the 



160 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

heavy timber that weighed him down, till at 
last he fainted. Nature gave way, and he 
sunk to the earth, while the hue of death 
passed over his countenance. When the 
sudden rush around him, caused by his fall, 
had subsided, the cross, or rather cross-piece, 
which he had carried was given to another, 
and the procession again took up the line of 
march. But suddenly, over the confused 
noise of the throng and rude shouts of the 
mob, there came a wild lament. Friends 
were following after, whose sick, Christ had 
healed, whose wounded hearts he had bound 
up, and on whose pathway of darkness he 
had shed the light of heaven ; and now they 
lifted up their voices in one long, mourn- 
ful cry. He turned at the sound and lis- 
tened a moment, then murmured in mourn- 
ful accents : a Weep not for me* but weep 
for yourselves and your children" Jerusa- 
lem on fire suddenly rose on his vision, to- 
gether with its famine-struck and bloated 
population, staggering and dying around the 



MOUNT CALVARY. 161 

empty market-places— the heaps of the dead 
that loaded the air with pestilence, and all 
the horror and woe and carnage of that last 
dreadful siege ; and forgetful of his own suf- 
fering, he exclaimed, " Weep not for me, but 
for yourselves and your children" 

Soon the procession reached the hill-top, 
and Christ was laid upon the ground, and 
his arms stretched along the timber he 
had carried, with the palms upturned, and 
through them spikes driven, fastening them 
to the wood. Methinks I hear the strokes 
of the hammer as it sends the iron, with blow 
after blow, through the quivering tendons, 
and behold the painful workings of that ago- 
ny-wrung brow, and the convulsive heaving 
and swelling of that blessed bosom, which 
seemed striving to rend above the imprisoned 
heart. 

At length he is lifted from the ground — 

his weight dragging on the spikes through 

his hands ; and the cross-piece inserted into 

the mortice of the upright timber, and a 
14* 



162 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

heavy iron crushed through his feet, fasten- 
ing them to the main post, and he is left to 
die. Why speak of his agony — of his words 
of comfort to the dying thief — of the multi- 
tude around him, or of the disgrace of that 
death. JVot even to look on that pallid face 
and flowing blood could one get any concep- 
tion of the suffering of the victim. The gloom 
and terror that began to gather round the 
soul, as every aid, human and divine, with- 
drew itself, and it stood alone in the deserted, 
darkened universe, and shuddered, w r as all 
unseen by mortal eye. Yet even in this 
dreadful hour his benevolent heart did not 
forget its friends. Looking down from the 
cross, he saw the mother that bore him ga- 
zing in tears upon his face, and with a feeble 
and tremulous- voice, he turned to John, who 
had so often lain in his bosom, and said, 
" Son, behold thy mother." Then turning to 
his mother, he said, " Behold thy son." His 
business with earthly things was now over, 
and he summoned his energies to meet the 



MOUNT CALVARY. 163 

last most terrible blow, before which nature 
itself was to give way. He had hitherto en- 
dured all without a complaint — the mocking, 
the spitting upon, the cross, the nails and 
the agony — but now came a woe that broke 
his heart. His father's — his own father's 
froicn began to darken upon him. Oh ! who 
can tell the anguish of that loving, trusting, 
abandoned heart at the sight. It was too 
much, and there arose a cry so piercing and 
shrill and wild that the universe shivered be- 
fore it ; and as the accents, "My God, my God, 
why hast thou forsaken me ?" fell on the ears 
of astonished mortals, and filled heaven with 
alarm ; the earth gave a groan, as if she too 
was about to expire; the sun died in the 
heavens ; an earthquake thundered on to 
complete the dismay ; and the dead could no 
longer sleep, but burst their ghastly cere-;2^' 
ments, and came forth to look upon the 
scene. That was the gloomiest wave that 
ever broke over the soul of the Saviour, and 
he fell before it. Christ was dead : and to all 



164 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

human appearance, the world was an or- 
phan. 

How heaven regarded this disaster, and 
the universe felt at the sight, I cannot tell, 
I know not but tears fell like rain-drops from 
angelic eyes, when they saw Christ spit 
upon and struck. I know not but there was 
silence on high for more than " half an hour," 
when the scene of the crucifixion was trans- 
piring — a silence unbroken, save by the soli- 
tary sound of some harp-string on which un- 
consciously fell the agitated, trembling fingers 
of a seraph. I know not but all the radiant 
ranks on high, and even Gabriel himself 
turned with the deepest solicitude to the 
Father's face, to see if he was calm and un- 
troubled amid it all. I know not but his 
composed brow and serene majesty were all 
that restrained heaven from one universal 
shriek of horror, when they heard groans on 
Calvary, dying groans. I know not but they 
thought God had "given his glory to an- 
other;" but one thirig I do know— that wheij 



MOUNT CALVARY. 165 

they saw through the vast design, compre- 
hended the stupendous scheme, the hills of 
God shook to a shout that had never before 
rung over their bright tops, and the crystal 
sea trembled to a song that had never before 
stirred its bright depths, and the " Glory to 
God in the highest, 77 was a " sevenfold 
chorus of hallelujahs and harping sympho- 
nies. 77 

Yet none of the heavenly cadences reached 
the earth, and all was sad, dark and despair- 
ing around Mount Calvary. The excitement 
which the slow murder had created, van- 
ished. With none to resist, and none to be 
slain, a change came over the feelings of the 
multitude, and they began one by one to re- 
turn to the city. The sudden darkness also, 
that wrapped the heavens, and the throb 
of the earthquake, which made those three 
crosses reel to and fro like cedars in a tem- 
pest, had sobered their feelings, and all but 
the soldiery were glad to be away from a 
scene that had ended with such supernatural 



166 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

exhibitions. Gradually the noise and con- 
fusion around the cross receded down the 
slopes — the shades of evening began to creep 
over the landscape, throwing into still more 
ghastly relief those three white corpses 
stretched on high and streaked with blood — 
and all was over. No ! not over, for the se- 
pulchre was yet to open, and the slain Christ 
was yet to mount the heavens in his glori- 
ous ascension. 

I will not speak of the moral grandeur of 
the atonement — of the redemption purchased 
by the agony and death on Calvary, for they 
are familiar to all. Still they constitute the 
greatness and value of the whole. It is the 
atonement that makes Mount Calvary chief 
among the " Sacred Mountains" — gives it 
such altitude that no mortal eye can scan its 
top, or bear the full effulgence of its glory. 
Paul called on his young disciples to sum- 
mon their strongest energies and bend their 
highest efforts to comprehend the " length 
and breadth, and depth and height" of this 



MOUNT CALVARY. 167 

stupendous theme — " a length which reaches 
from everlasting to everlasting; a breadth 
that encompasses every intelligence and 
every interest; a depth which reaches the 
lowest state of human degradation and 
misery, and a height that throws floods of 
glory on the throne and crown of Jehovah" 




In the preceding sketches I have confined 
myself to descriptions of scenes alone, not 
because there was no great moral truth in- 
culcated in them, but to give them definite- 
ness. Each is full of instruction, and indeed 
was designed to be a great lesson for man. 
Sometimes God's hatred of sin, sometimes 
his care for his children, sometimes the dis- 
cipline of his church, were the motives that 
led him to make such wonderful displays of 
his power, his terror, and his goodness. But 
besides their present benefit, they have also 
an ultimate meaning; and those immortal 
mountains, with their silent yet eloquent 
summits, all point to a spiritual elevation, 



THE MOUNT OF GOD. 169 

whose top is lost in the glorious atmosphere 
of the upper world. Thus Ararat, with the 
heaven-lifted, heaven-guided ark resting on 
its summit, is but a symbol of the Christian's 
repose, after the storms of life, and wreck of 
all earthly things, on the serene heights of 
perpetual bliss. Mount Moriah is only the 
shadow of that height of mystery where 
God offered up his only son, and there was 
no hand to stay the stroke. Sinai and Ho- 
reb are but dim reflections of the terrors of 
that law whose final execution shall set the 
world in a blaze. Mount Pisgah points to a 
"land of promise," from whose bosom rise 
more glorious summits than the " goodly 
mountain Lebanon." Tabor reveals before- 
hand the appearance which the Lamb of God 
will present when he stands on " Mount Zion" 
with the redeemed about him; and Olivet 
and Calvary are both eloquent of heaven. 
All these, as I remarked, point more or less 
significantly to one transcendent mountain, 

whose summit has never been seen but once 
15 



170 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

from earth. There is one mount whose daz- 
zling outline is hid from human eye by im- 
penetrable veils of glory. The Bible often 
speaks of the " Mount of God," the " Mount 
of Holiness," and " Mount Zion" — sometimes 
referring to Horeb and sometimes to the 
heights of Jerusalem, and sometimes to the 
moral and spiritual heights of paradise. To 
represent these last I have chosen the title 
of " Mount of God." 

In that strange era in human history when 
God walked with man, clad as a man, and 
earth was nearer to heaven than ever before, 
amid the few friends that clustered around 
him, was one " disciple whom Jesus loved" Of 
a warm and devoted heart, John had allowed 
his attachment to absorb every other feeling 
of his nature, and he merged his life into 
that of the Saviour. He accompanied his 
footsteps as he walked, looked up into his 
face with unutterable tenderness as he spoke, 
and lay in his bosom as he sat at meat. No 
wonder that in the days of persecution the 



THE MOUNT OF GOD. 171 

hand of violence should fall on such a man. 
Proscribed, banished — the solitary inhabitant 
of Patmos — John passed his days in musing 
on the words and fate of his departed Lord. 
But one morning — the morning that brought 
to remembrance his glorious ascension — he 
was " in the spirit/' and that lonely isle " be- 
came like Carmel of old filled with horses 
and chariots of fire.' 7 He u ivas in the spirit" 
and there was nothing to disturb his high 
and holy meditations. There was no sound 
of passing wheels, no hum of distant voices, 
no tread of hurried footsteps, to break the 
solitude that surrounded him. The only 
sound that fell on his ear, as he trode the 
solitary shore, was the deep and solemn mur- 
mur of the Egean sea, as it gently rolled its 
waves to his feet. As he thus passed along, 
wrapped in his solitary musings, he suddenly 
heard behind him a voice like the solemn 
peal of a mighty trumpet, saying, " I am Al- 
pha and Omega, the first and the last." 
And as he turned and beheld the form ^hich 



172 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

spake to him, he was filled with awe and 
consternation, and "fell on his face as a dead 
man.' 7 Before those burning footsteps those 
eyes of flame, and voice like the sound of 
many waters, that countenance shining like 
tLe sun in his mid-day splendor, he sunk 
powerless and affrighted, and buried his face 
in the sand and lay speechless till he felt the 
pressure of " his right hand" upon him, and 
heard the cheering words, " Fear not, I am 
the first and the last; I am he that was 
dead, and is alive forevermore." Then fol- 
lowed a succession of wonderful revelations, 
till at length the heavens were opened above 
him, and he saw the throne and him that sat 
upon it, circled by the emerald rainbow, sur- 
rounded by the white-vested elders, while 
all around and far away into eternity unceas- 
ingly rose and fell, " Holy, holy, holy, Lord 
God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to 
come." Thus vision after vision passed be- 
fore his bewildered, trembling spirit, till he 
stood and wept amid the awful pageantry of 



THE MOUNT OF GOD. 173 

heaven. At last, to crown the scene, a mount 
rose before him bathed in an atmosphere all 
its own, and on its dazzling top stood the 
still more dazzling form of the Lamb, in 
more than earthly transfiguration, and beside 
him a hundred and forty four thousand re- 
splendent beings, with the Father's name 
written in strange but heavenly characters 
on their foreheads. The crystal sea laved 
the base of that mountain, and from its top 
the " river of God" was seen rolling its bright 
w T aters along, and the heavenly Jerusalem, 
with its walls of jasper and gates of pearl, 
standing open night and day, and its temple 
of light. As the bewildered disciple stood 
gazing on this wonderful vision, suddenly 
there stole on his ears strains of music. At 
first faint and low the thrilling accents rose 
from that mysterious mount, then swelled 
triumphantly away, till the universe was 
filled with the melody. The singers were 
those hundred and forty four thousand, and 

they sung a new song, and as they struck 
15* 



174 SACRED MOUNTAINS. 

their harps, together thus they sung: "Wor- 
thy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive 
power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, 
and honor, and glory, and blessing." And 
with one voice the innumerable host chanted 
the heavenly doxology, " Blessing, and honor, 
and glory, and power, be unto him that sit- 
teth on the throne, and to the Lamb forever;' 7 
and back returned the long " Amen." Again 
and again was it taken up and echoed from 
rank to rank along that celestial mountain, 
till it came rolling back with all the strength 
of archangel voices full on the throne of God. 
The theme, the song was new — it was the 
song of Redemption. David stood there 
sweeping a harp far more melodious and 
tuneful than the one he swept with such a 
master hand on earth. Elijah poured his 
soul of fire into it. Isaiah gave it a loftier 
echo. The martyrs, those witnesses for the 
truth who had passed through the flames to 
their reward, furnished new accessions to its 
strength ; for all the ransomed of the Lord 



THE MOUNT OF GOD. 175 

were there. Aaron went up thither from 
the top of Hor, and Moses from Pisgah. 
Elijah's chariot of fire never stopped till its 
burning wheels rested on that heavenly 
mount, and thither Christ ascended from 
the hill of Olives. Thus the redeemed have 
flocked one after another to the Mount of 
God, and there they shall continue to gather 
until the glorious assembly stands complete, 
and " God is all and in all." 



THE END. 



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